


Take a Sip from a Secret Potion

by colazitron



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry decides to take one last fun summer job before going to university in London in the fall, so he signs up to help out on the restoration of a historical manor house in Cornwall. He makes friends with a deceptively strong girl, meets a delightfully pretty boy, and -- keeps dreaming about life as a medieval princess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Sip from a Secret Potion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Dear Calliope! I took two of your prompts and sort of mashed them together, I hope that's alright. They just pinged two ideas I'd had previously and pointed out the delightfully obvious way they could go together. I hope this is anything like what you wanted, even if the legend I chose isn't necessarily a super well known one, maybe?
> 
> Thanks also to Becca for bearing with me and looking this over for me. ♥
> 
> Finally: I am not in any way affilliated with the persons depicted in this story, or profiting off it in any monetary way. I do not claim any of the events in this fanfiction actually took place.

_When all is lost and love is tragic, cast a spell, it’s called Black Magic_

+++

“Mum, stop making that face, please,” Harry says, reaching out to squeeze his mum’s shoulder.

Anne reaches up to squeeze at Harry’s wrist and then bats him away.

“I’m just being silly, darling. I just feel like you’ve only just come home and now you're leaving again, and once you’re off to London in the fall, I won't get to see you nearly enough,” she says.

“I’ve been home for three months, mum,” Harry says, indulgent smile on his face.

“I know, I know,” Anne says, smiling more solidly. “Just let me fuss over my baby for a bit.”

“I’m nineteen,” Harry protests gently.

“You’ll always be my baby, darling,” she reminds him. “You and Gemma both.”

Harry's not really complaining about that, if he’s being honest. He does enjoy being the baby, more often than not. He loves his mum, and he loves being home, it's just that he loves being away as well. Home is a constant, always in the back of his mind, but Harry’s always had wanderlust, has always wanted to see far off places, taste all the world has to offer. And, in the grand scheme of things, neither his gap half-year around the Mediterranean, nor this summer job in Cornwall of all places are all that far off. 

“Love you too, mum,” Harry says, and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

“Well, you’d better get going now so you don’t miss your train,” she says, giving his cheek a final pat and stepping back from him. “Gemma’s coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “She knows when I’m coming in, and I’ll text her if we’re delayed.”

Gemma also told him she might not get to the train station in time and that he might have to make his way to hers himself, but Harry’s not about to mention that.

“Well, alright then. Let me know when you’ve made it,” Anne says.

“Will do. I’ll give Gemma your love. Bye, mum,” Harry smiles, adjusts the strap of his weekender bag on his shoulder more comfortably and grabs the handle of his suitcase.

“Have fun, love,” Anne says.

Harry gives her a final smile and then turns around. He really does have to hurry now if he wants to catch his train. Hefting the large bag onto one shoulder - he should’ve sprung for the one on wheels, he really should have - he makes his way down the escalator and then along the short corridor to the platform. He clearly remembers when the Holmes Chapel train station had seemed like some sort of magical portal to unknown worlds to him as a child, but having boarded the Eurostar in London, and several other trains at several other big train stations all over Europe, now it’s just charming. He’s not sure why there are three platforms, since he’s only ever used 1 and 2, but he supposes there could be freight trains going along the third one.

The train ride is short as always, and Gemma _does_ text about being stuck at uni and meeting him at home. It’s not like he’s not been here plenty before anyway, so he gets on the bus and settles the bag between his legs, trying to scoot over to make more space for a little old lady and her purse. She keeps scowling at him, so he probably doesn’t succeed much.

Gemma’s waiting for him by the bus stop, informing him that since she’s offering to share her bed for the night, he’s going to cook for them, as all her flatmates are apparently out that evening. Harry doesn’t mind. He likes them, but they also tend to think it’s hilarious that he’s not at uni yet and “a baby” compared to them. Gemma delights in it, of course, so Harry’s thinking he could teach a master class in “grin and bear it” at this point.

“So,” she asks, over a shared meal of spaghetti, because that’s what she shopped for, “Cornwall.”

“Yep,” Harry says, slurping his pasta obnoxiously.

“Come on, H. Why are you going to Cornwall to renovate a flipping castle, when you could have your cushy job at Mandeville’s? You’re gonna be stressed enough in fall when your classes start,” she says.

Harry shrugs.

“Didn’t want to,” he says. “I like doing it when I was sixteen, but, like, I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Aw, are you growing up?”

“I’ve been taller than you for years.”

She flicks sauce at his face, and honestly, he’s just glad she doesn’t miss and get his shirt. He doesn’t want to start out having to think about washing things. That’s going to be enough of a hassle as it is, probably, since they’re staying in the actual castle while renovating other parts of it.

“Well, your tiling in Greece was magnificent, at least, so you’re going to have fun I suppose,” she grins.

Harry scowls and wipes the sauce from his face. She bloody well knows how much he hated tiling and retiling that bathroom in Greece. Sure, Harry can probably lay that particular pattern in his sleep now, but he’d really rather not ever have to do it again, if it’s all the same.

“Haha,” he says.

They go quiet for a bit and then she sighs.

“Mum worries. I’m just making sure you’re not secretly freaking out or something,” Gemma says.

‘Mum worries’ has always been Gemma’s code for when she doesn’t want to be an overbearing older sister, and isn’t quite sure how to offer help. Harry grins to himself and then over at her.

“Nah, I’m looking forward to university. I mean, it is a little terrifying, but I won’t know if it’s worth it until I’ve tried, will I. And I just didn’t want to be stuck back home with the same people I’ve seen all my life,” he explains and shrugs. “Getting away was amazing. There’s so much more world out there than just Holmes Chapel, you know?”

Gemma laughs.

“Yeah, but you don’t see me running for it at every chance.”

Harry shrugs again and twirls some more pasta onto his fork.

“Can’t help it if you’re boring,” he teases.

“Hey, if I weren’t so boring, you’d have no bed to sleep in while waiting to take the train off into your more adventurous life,” she says, pointing a fork at him as if she were actually going to kick him out for a comment like that.

“Hm, true. Thanks for being boring, then,” he says.

She rolls her eyes at him and goes back to her pasta.

The rest of the night she talks about her classes and her friends, the life she’s built here, and Harry soaks it all up, stores it away and keeps it alive in a part of his chest that’s vibrating with the need to build that kind of life for himself, the part that really can’t wait to be in London. Cornwall is just the calm before the storm, one last whimsical summer job adventure, before he has to try to balance course load with a job on the side, probably, and possibly trying to get his feet into as many doors as he possibly can.

At four in the morning, when his alarm goes off, Gemma hits him with his pillow and then gets up to make him a cup of tea while he brushes his teeth, pulls on his clothes, and double checks his bag to make sure he really has at least packed all the essentials he’s going to need. You can always go without a ninth pair of socks, but he really does need that phone charger.

“Call,” Gemma says, when he’s standing by the door, her hair still messy, and eyes bleary.

“Will do. Thanks for letting me stay,” he stays and automatically moves into the hug she offers.

“Get instagram,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“I have instagram,” he says.

“Oh. Well, tell me your name thingie so I can follow you. Do you use it?”

“Yeah, how do you think mum got all those photos?”

“Sh, don't be ridiculous. It's way too early for thinking,” Gemma says.

Harry chuckles and squeezes her a last time before stepping away.

“Thanks, again, for letting me stay.”

“Yeah, sure. Now please leave so I can go back to sleep,” she teases, and gives him a light shove followed by a pat on the arm.

Harry rolls his eyes, but grabs his bag – he _really_ should have gotten the wheelie one – and turns away to walk down the stairs. Since there's no public transport yet this early in the morning, he calls a cab on his way down, enjoying the cool early morning air that blows into the car through the open window on the way to the train station. He sleeps the first part of the train ride away, woken by another alarm fifteen minutes before he needs to change onto a different train. The waiting time for his connecting train isn't too long, thankfully. It's just enough time for Harry to buy a couple of loaded sandwiches, one of which he stuffs into his backpack for later, and find a bench on the platform to sit and eat the other one.

All in all, by the time he makes it to Caerhays House – or at least as far as he can get on his own – it's past noon, and Harry feels both exhausted and keyed up from being cooped up in trains and buses all day long. Thankfully he was told he was going to be picked up from the bus stop, so he wouldn't have to figure out how to get to the castle that lay a little outside the village bounds. When he steps off the bus, the sun's out bright and hot, so after stretching what feels like every muscle in his body in an attempt to dislodge the exhaustion, he swings his backpack around to his chest and rummages through it carefully to get out his sunglasses.

“Excuse me, are you... here for Caerhays as well?” a girl asks.

Harry turns to smile at her and nods.

“Yeah! I'm Harry,” he says, readjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and holding out a hand to her.

She's a head and then some shorter than him, but her grip is firm, and her eyes twinkle brightly. Harry thrills a little. She's pretty, in her denim shorts and tank top, a flannel shirt tied around her waist, and her hair in the messiest ponytail he's ever seen. He’s not actually sure if it's supposed to be a ponytail, but it’s the first thing that popped into his head. It might be the messiest bun he’s ever seen. Regardless, her smile is sunny, and strong, and she looks at him like she’s sizing him up, but fully prepared to like him.

“Jesy,” she says.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says, and they mutually drop the handshake.

“They told you we'd be picked up as well, right?” Jesy asks.

Harry nods. “Yeah. They booked all my trains and buses for me. I'm guessing...?”

“Yeah, same for me,” she confirms. “Good. They must know we’re here then.”

She says it a little wrily, so Harry laughs though he can see her shift her weight to the other leg. Harry gets it. The idea of being stranded here in the middle of nowhere in Cornwall isn't his idea of a good time either.

“Well, they need us to do the heavy lifting, so I'm betting we won't be forgotten,” he says.

Jesy rewards him with a grin.

They're silent for a bit, both staring up and down the slightly dusty road for any signs of someone coming to pick them up. Harry rummages around his backpack for his water bottle then, and after he's taken a sip the silence gets to be a bit too… silent for him.

“So, why did you apply for the job?” he asks.

Jesy lifts an eyebrow. “Because I'm a tiny girl and there's lots of 'heavy lifting'?”

“Because it's all the way in Nowhere, Cornwall,” Harry says.

Jesy squints her eyes at him for a moment, like she's trying to gauge if he's just trying to squirm his way out of her assumption, but then smiles.

“It seemed interesting. I've helped out with work around a mate's house once, and I didn't fancy staying at home over the summer. Even if this is Nowhere, Cornwall,” she says.

Harry nods along.

“You?” she asks then. “Here for the heavy lifting?”

“Me? With these noodle arms?” he jokes, wiggling one of his arms, fully aware that though the statement would've been true a year ago, that was before he spent a good few months doing 'heavy lifting' all over the Mediterranean.

Judging by the lift of Jesy's eyebrow, she's not too impressed with his joke either.

“I've been doing things like this over my gap year last year. I couldn't really afford to just go somewhere, but I wanted to leave for a bit before I go to uni, so I just sort of… started in a place with a job like this and then went on to another, and another, and so on,” he explains.

“Ah, so you've experience,” she teases.

“I mean, none of the other projects I did were medieval castles. And they were all around the Mediterranean area, so...” Harry trails off. The work there was probably at least a little bit different from what this is going to be, but it has to be why he got this job in the first place. There's probably regulations and all to follow when you're renovating a medieval castle, so Harry can't imagine they'd hire just anyone all willy-nilly. But what does he know, really. Maybe that's exactly what they're doing, judging by the credentials Jesy and he offer.

“So you're going to uni in the fall?” Jesy asks.

“Yeah, down in London,” he says.

“Not bad.”

Harry grins, excited but nervous about it at the same time. He's mostly trying not to think about it too much, if he's being honest.

“You?” he asks.

“I'm in London too. I'm in a dance troupe, and a barmaid in a pub,” Jesy says.

“Dance troupe? That's amazing. I stumble over my own feet, more often than not,” Harry confesses.

Jesy laughs.

“Well, you do have quite a bit of them,” she teases.

Harry bites down on the comment that wants to jump off the tip of his tongue and quirks an eyebrow instead. Jesy rolls her eyes and gives him a shove. He laughs. If nothing else, he's got a feeling they're going to get along for the summer.

A car comes to a slow, and a finally a halt behind them at the bus stop then, and they turn towards it expectantly. The man who gets out of the driver's seat, hair mussed up, aviators perched on his nose, and mouth pulled into a grin, takes Harry's breath away a little bit. He catches himself after a moment's staring, glad for the sunglasses that hide his eyes, and consciously relaxes his stance, adopting a friendly smile himself.

“Hiya! Are you Jesy Nelson and Harry Styles?” the man asks.

Jesy and he nod.

“Good. Hi. Sorry, I'm late. I'm Louis Tomlinson, I'm with Petersen Architecture, and your chauffeur for the next forty-five minutes,” he says, holding a hand out for Jesy, and then Harry to shake.

“Alright, well, let's get you in the car, and I'll answer any questions you've got in the car. Sound good?” Louis Tomlinson suggests.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jesy says, and Harry nods his agreement. Neither of them fancy standing around in the midday sun for longer than they need to, he supposes, and since they'll be driving for another forty-five minutes, apparently, there's plenty time for twenty questions then.

Harry grabs his own bag, hoisting it into the boot of the car, and then help Jesy with hers as well. She rolls her eyes at him, but joins him in the back seat.

“I see how it is,” Louis jokes, sliding into the driver's seat again, and buckling himself in.

Jesy laughs.

“Well, I couldn't leave Harry all by himself back here, could I? And he's a gentleman, so he wouldn't take the front seat and leave me,” she says.

Louis laughs. Harry's pretty sure if they could his ears would perk up at the sound.

“Do you two know each other?” Louis asks.

“Oh, yes, we go way back,” Jesy says. “What's it been? Ten, fifteen minutes?”

“Sounds about right, yeah,” Harry says, grin easy on his face.

Louis laughs again.

“Well, that's lovely,” he says, and after a brief silence adds, “So, do you have any questions?”

“Yeah, I have one,” Jesy says.

“Go on.”

“What exactly are we going to be doing?” she asks.

Harry snorts in amusement, but he can't say that isn't his biggest question as well. The ad hadn't been overly clear, lots of “details still to be determined” and such. If it hadn't been attached to a genuine London architecture firm, he probably wouldn't even have applied.

“Odd jobs, mostly,” Louis says. “It's not technically a company project. The castle belongs to one of the partners at Petersen, and they want to turn parts of it into an event location. We've got an actual construction crew coming in as well, but there's lots that just needs to be done so that they can do their job effectively. And since it's a private project, there's not as much money for it.”

That makes sense, Harry supposes. He's still not worried he's about to be murdered and dumped in the woods, at any rate, so that's definitely a good thing.

“So, is it only the two of us?” Harry asks.

“For the most part, yeah,” Louis says. “I'll help out every now and then, but I've got a lot of organising to do. And there's Niall and Perrie, who aren't technically on this project, but they'll be helping out from time to time as well.”

“And we'll be staying on site, right?” Jesy asks.

“Yeah, the b&b portion of the whole thing has been running for about a year now, and we've all got rooms there,” Louis says.

“So, is what we're doing an expansion, or…?”

“Partially, I suppose. The part where the great hall is supposed to go is mostly in more ruins than the rest, so it'll be partially restored, partially added to,” Louis explains. “It's part of the old coach house, I believe, and luckily only the main building is a heritage building, so there aren't too many restrictions on what we can do with it.”

They fall quiet for a bit, and then Louis asks why they signed up for the project in the first place.

“I mean, the pay's not exactly spectacular,” he adds with a grin.

Jesy laughs.

“Nah, but it gets me out of town, and it's still better than nothing. Basically a paid vacation,” she says.

Louis snorts indelicately. “You won't be saying that in a couple days.”

“I can handle myself, don't worry your pretty little head,” Jesy says.

Harry ducks his head and grins.

“And you, Harry?” Louis asks.

“Um, I've been doing stuff like this on my gap year, so I thought why not one more, basically. Didn't want to spend my whole summer back home.”

Louis frowns a little.

“Oh?” he says, opening up an opportunity, but obviously not wanting to pry.

Harry smiles brightly. “There's really only so many summers you can spend in a tiny village in Cheshire before you need to run away for a bit.”

Louis and Jesy chuckle.

“Can't say I relate, but I shudder at the thought,” Jesy says.

“It's very… picturesque,” Harry says.

Louis laughs again. “So's Cornwall. Not sure you made such a smart trade there, mate.”

“Well, I've never spent a summer in Cornwall before, so it's got that over home already.”

“I have,” Louis says. “In this village actually.”

“Really?” Jesy asks. “And you're coming back?”

“Got nostalgic, I suppose,” Louis laughs. “It was a good while ago. And I had a good time. Met a girl. You know how it goes.”

“Do I ever. Summer is the best time to meet girls,” Jesy sighs wistfully.

Harry shoots her a quick look and then catches Louis' eye in the rear view mirror, as though they're mutually checking the other one isn't about to make a rude comment. Louis smiles.

“Because bikinis?” Harry asks.

“Because summer makes everyone a bit crazy, and for girls that means finally being a little less obsessed with societal expectations of them,” Jesy says. Harry senses an entire rant behind it. “But also bikinis, yes.”

Harry allows himself a laugh.

“It's a shame speedos aren't so much in fashion anymore, really,” he comments idly, trying to tamp down on his heartbeat. It hasn't gotten very much easier yet, saying things like this, but since they're sharing…

“Well, you can always aim to be a trendsetter, Harold,” Louis teases from the front, and catches Harry's eye in the mirror again to grin at him.

“You could pull it off, probably. Or some of those tiny shorts from, like, the fifties. With the useless belts,” Jesy suggests.

“I'm sure I'll find one of those at the local Cornwall swim wear shop,” Harry drawls, prompting another round of laughter.

“The sea's a bit cold for swimming right now anyway. You're free to, of course, there's even a private beach on the property, I'm just warning you,” Louis says.

“We'll have to check it out,” Jesy says, looking over at Harry.

Harry grins at her. Apparently she has decided to like him. It's good to know he won't be lacking friends here over the summer. That would probably get very lonely very soon. Sure, Harry's never really had trouble making friends, but… it's always good to know.

“So, you're with the architecture firm, right? You're not on the project like we are?” Harry then asks, deciding to get some more information out of Louis.

“Yeah, I intern there. Have for the past summer as well. I do architecture at uni,” he says.

“Crazy coincidence that you've been here before, then,” Jesy says.

Louis laughs. “Yeah. It's weird how the world works sometimes.”

“Do you know what our first jobs are gonna be?” Jesy asks. “Since you're involved with the organising and such?”

“I do, actually, yeah. There's still a lot of crap that needs to be cleaned out of the building before we can get started on the renovation parts. It was mostly used for storage, I've been told, but the owners don't actually know what exactly's in there, so we're gonna have to be methodical about it. Make a list and all. They might want to keep some of the stuff.”

“They don't even know what it's in there but they might want to keep it?” Jesy asks, a sceptical eyebrow climbing up her forehead.

“Well, it's a good location cause it's got local legend. So if there's anything that relates to that, then they want to see if it can be used in some way. Make it a bit of a thing, you know,” Louis explains.

“Local legend?” Harry asks.

Jesy next to him has perked up a bit as well.

Louis laughs. “Yeah, I only found out the other day, but apparently there's a stone around here that claims to mark the burial place of a knight who people connect with Tristan. You know, from Tristan and Isolde?”

“Never heard of it,” Jesy says.

“Star-crossed lovers. I don't know the details, but it's part of the whole King Arthur thing, I think. She was married to someone else, so they had an affair, and death was involved somehow. They don't end up together so I don't know why anyone would want to associate a wedding venue with it, but I guess they fought for their love or something?” Louis explains.

Harry shrugs. He's never really been one for the whole star-crossed thing. It always just seems like a terrible reminder that people are awful and incapable of behaving like mature adults. It'd solve pretty much all the Romeo and Juliet like plots, he thinks.

“So, yeah. There might be, I don't know, wall hangings? Or books? Some stuff relating to it. Or just ornamental old stuff that makes for good decoration,” Louis goes on.

“So you're gonna be with us for that part then?” Harry asks.

Jesy shoots him a tiny look sideways, and Harry pretends not to notice.

“Yeah, I'll be helping you out on that one. I have a more detailed list on what to look for at base camp,” Louis says.

Jesy snorts at 'base camp', and Harry shares another grin with Louis via the rearview mirror.

“Then after that I think there's part of the garden you're supposed to work on? And then probably just help out wherever you're needed. Nothing out of your skill set, of course. We won't ask you to operate any heavy machinery,” Louis says.

Jesy fakes a disappointed whine. Harry would probably not put it past her to drive around some sort of demolition equipment or something. Somehow, he thinks, heavy machinery would probably suit her. There seems to be a lot of energy condensed in her small body.

The next silence lapses into a discussion of the song on the radio, and then, for some reason, the starting season of The X-Factor. Harry mostly lets Jesy and Louis debated back and forth on that, their enthusiasm about the subject easily entertaining enough for him to not feel the need to constantly insert himself into the conversation.

True to prediction, it takes them about forty-eight minutes until Louis turns off the road through a large stone archway onto the grounds of Caerhays House.

The manor house in the distance isn't as imposing as Harry has expected, clearly already renovated a bit, and the grounds around it make it more friendly than intimidating. It's still too big to live in, but Harry supposes when you run some sort of hotel b&b type thing that's a good thing.

The air smells different here when they step out of the car. Kind of like Holmes Chapel, that outdoors, grassy air, but there's a breeze that carries the saltiness of sea up towards them, and tangles their hair. Well, Jesy's hair at least. Maybe. She pulls at her elastic to let her hair tumble down her back before scooping it up again, and the bun is a little less messy this time, but still only a haphazard effort.

“Okay,” Louis says, catching their attention after he's given them a moment or two to take in their surroundings. “I'm going to show you to your rooms and then there's lunch and then you can just get settled in and explore for the rest of the day. I can introduce you around, if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks, sounds good,” Harry says, grabbing both his and Jesy's bags out of the boot. She takes it with a grateful smile and pulls it after her, while Harry hefts it up onto a shoulder and curses himself in the past once again. You won't need the wheels really, will you? Yes. Yes, he will.

The rooms are small, but nice. Jesy's is right across the hall from Harry's, which she comments on with a wink and a “good to know where to find you if I see a ghost and get scared.” When Harry pushes open the dor, there's a bed, a dresser, a little table and a chair, a window. Someone put a small vase of wildflowers on the table.

Harry smiles and sets his bag down, listening to Louis explain how there are two bathrooms to a floor, one for the girls, one for the boys, which they share with the other people on their floor – Louis, and the aforementioned Niall and Perrie.

“So I'm the only girl? I get a bathroom to myself?” Jesy asks, as Louis waits for them to lock their doors to lead them down to lunch.

“No, Perrie's a girl too,” Louis says, small confused frown on his brow that Harry tries not to smile at.

“Oh! Unusual name,” Jesy comments.

The frown clears up. “Oh, yeah. True,” Louis says.

“She's fun though, you'll like her,” he adds.

Jesy and Harry follow him down some back stairs, probably the former servant's staircase, Harry thinks, and into a small dining room. There's a small buffet of sandwiches and soup set up, and Louis encourages them to take what they like and then come join him at a table. He himself quickly grabs a plate and two sandwiches and then goes to sit down at a table where a blond boy roughly their age is already eating.

Harry grabs a sandwhich and a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and then Jesy's glass of water when she struggles with her own plates and bowls.

Louis and the blond boy stare for a moment when they join them at the table.

“Well, that's gonna come in handy,” blond boy says, pointing at Harry's hands.

Harry looks down at where Jesy's carefully taking things from his hands and setting them down on the table and then back up at the boy.

“It's all I put on the application to be honest. Harry Styles, huge hands,” he says.

Jesy snorts a laugh, and Louis grins wrily. Blond boy lets out a short cackle and pats the bench beside himself.

“I'm Niall,” he says. “You're gonna be fun.”

Harry beams back and then shakes Niall's hand when he offers it.

“I'm Jesy,” Jesy says, and offers a wave at Niall from across the table where she's sat next to Louis.

“Nice to meet you too,” Niall grins. “You're both here for Petersen then?”

“Yeah, how about you?” Jesy asks, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Summer job/internship kind of thing,” he says. “Gonna be a chef.”

“Nice. So you made this?” Harry asks, gesturing down at the soup with his spoon.

“I did actually, yeah. Glad that someone's appreciating it,” Niall says, mock-glaring over at Louis.

“Oy, you know I don't do soup. Not in this weather,” Louis says. “Nothing to do with you, leprechaun.”

“It's cold soup, actually,” Harry says.

Niall shoves him in the shoulder. “Don't tell him that, I was gonna get him to eat it anyway!”

Harry smiles sheepishly and shrugs.

“Oops?” he offers.

Niall laughs good-naturedly.

“I'll get him next time,” he says.

Louis mock glares at Niall and the leans across the table to dip a piece of his bread into Harry's soup.

Harry pretends he can't see Jesy watching them like a hawk. A hawk with a smirk in the corner of her mouth.

“Mm. It actually is pretty good,” Louis says, then jolts and reaches down to – presumably – rub at his leg.

“Uncalled for,” Louis complains.

“Don't be a baby, I barely nudged you,” Niall says.

“I'll have a bruise the exact size of the toe of your shoe, you'll see,” Louis insists.

“Mhm,” Niall just hums, trying to pretend through his smile that he's not humouring Louis.

Harry grins down at his soup. This is already a lot more fun than he expected it to be. Not that he expected it to be dull, he wouldn't have applied otherwise, but he assumed the fun would be mostly in getting the work done, and that bonding with others on the project would be a bit slow going, the way it's mostly been on the projects he's previously worked on as well. This easy camaraderie is not something he was expecting.

“Well,” Louis says, when they're all done eating, “I can show you around now, if you want?”

“Yeah, that'd be great,” Jesy says, and looks over at Harry.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

Jesy smirks again and Harry very deliberately doesn't roll his eyes at her. If he pretends there's nothing going on with her behaviour, maybe she'll do him the favour of pretending there's nothing going on with his when it comes to Louis. It's not like Harry's even flirting or anything! He's just… appreciating that Louis is a very attractive guy. And funny. Nothing wrong with that. It's not even a crush or anything, just Harry liking what he's seen so far. There's really nothing for Jesy to smirk about. She clearly reads into things too much.

Niall offers to take their plates back to the kitchen, and so Louis leads them out of the dining hall through the rest of the house. He points out all the loos and the best shortcuts, where the kitchens are and where the staff quarters meet the guest area – mostly because they're supposed to stay away from it as much as possible, especially when dirty. It only makes more work for everyone.

Harry and Jesy catch each other's eyes more than once, both clearly a little overwhelmed with all the information Louis crams into their very brief tour. Harry's at least eighty-five percent sure that most if not all the historical facts about the house he tells them are complete bullshit, but Louis is a very entertaining bullshitter, so he doesn't intend to call him on it. Neither, it seems, does Jesy.

After leading them down to the construction site and pointing out the rooms they're to start working on the next day after breakfast, Louis leaves them back at the entrance to the staff quarters, telling them he'll be in his office, if they should need anything, and otherwise he'll see them at dinner.

Harry nods and watches him leave, and then turns to Jesy.

She's grinning.

“So,” she says.

“So, I was thinking about checking out the beach? See what it's got to offer,” Harry says.

Jesy keeps grinning at him, but she nods.

“Yeah, sure,” she says and pats his arm a little too gently. “That seems like a good idea. Pretty sure it was where the path split by that little rock?”

“Pretty sure,” Harry agrees. “And, well, we've got a few hours till dinner.”

“True. Let's see if we can find our rooms again, then. If we're going down to the sea, I'm bringing my bathing suit, just in case.”

It takes them only one wrong turn – and one five minute argument about another one that Jesy ends up winning, and being right about – to get back to their rooms, and then another twenty minutes to make their way down to the beach. Although 'beach' seems like a very generous description. It's a small, pebbly bay with a few rocks littered about.

Jesy pulls off her shoes and goes to dip her toe into the water.

“Oh, fuck, that really is cold,” she says, turning around immediately and hurrying back up to where Harry's unlacing his trainers, as though the water was going to follow her up if she didn't put a good three meters between the water's edge and her.

Harry laughs and slips out of his jeans, hobbling down to the water in his swim shorts and t-shirt.

“It's really hot, though. Maybe it'll be nice, once we get used to it,” he suggests.

“There's no getting used to that,” Jesy calls after him.

Harry wades into the water until it's playing around his ankles and has to agree. It's not biting at him with cold, but it's… definitely a few degrees below refreshing.

“Get back here, or your feet'll fall off,” Jesy laughs behind him.

“It's not that cold,” Harry protests, but once he's back at her side, he climbs up onto one of the rocks and relishes the hot stone under his cold feet, and the hot sunshine on it.

“It's nice though,” Jesy says after a little while.

“Yeah, we should try and have a picnic or a bonfire or something here; bring Niall, Louis and the other girl,” Harry suggests.

“Perrie?”

“Yeah.”

“Proper romantic of you,” Jesy teases. “Dibs on Perrie though.”

“We haven't even met her yet,” Harry laughs. “Also, that's rude.”

Jesy rolls her eyes.

“You've got dibs on Louis.”

“ I never said anything, and you're not even interested in Louis!”

“Are you interested in Perrie?”

“I might be,” Harry says, shrugging it off.

“Really?” Jesy asks, seeming genuinely surprised.

Harry shrugs again.

“I don't really care about… all that,” he says.

“So you're pan?” Jesy asks.

“Yeah, I guess. That's what I use, when the situation calls for a label,” Harry says.

Jesy hums in understanding.

“I care,” she says then.

“So, only girls for you?”

Jesy nods. “Yeah.”

“Girls are great,” Harry agrees, earning himself a laugh.

“Sooo, you're definitely interested in Louis then?” she asks after a brief pause, all grin and wiggling eyebrows.

“Urgh,” Harry says, covering his face with his hands, and lying back onto the rock, grinning behind his hands as Jesy laughs again and doesn't press him further.

They pass the afternoon comfortably in the little bay. Clouds roll in soon enough, so the sun isn't beating down quite as harshly anymore, and when they get too hot anyway, there's always the ocean that offers a good refresher with a quick dip of their toes. They make their way back to the house in plenty time before dinner, both of them wanting to change out of the swim clothes they ended up not using after all. Finding the dining hall takes them a little longer than expected, so by the time they get there, Niall's already sitting at a table with a blonde and waves at them enthusiastically when they come in.

“Hi,” Harry says, sitting down by Niall again.

Jesy takes the place opposite him, next to who is probably Perrie, and rolls her eyes at him.

“Hi. You enjoy your afternoon?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, we went down to the sea,” Jesy says. “It's fucking cold.”

Niall laughs, and the girl lifts a hand to giggle into.

“Yeah, it is. Doesn't ever really get much warmer, to be honest,” Niall says.

“Disappointing, to be honest. I was looking forward to a swim every now and then,” Jesy says with a sigh.

“In the ocean? In Cornwall? What made you think that was going to happen?” Niall asks.

Jesy crosses her arms and pouts.

“Oh, hush,” she says.

Niall laughs again, but doesn't offer anything else, so Jesy turns to the girl she's sitting beside.

“Hi, I'm Jesy. That one's Harry. We're here for the Petersen project,” she says and holds out a hand.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Pez,” Niall says.

The girl smiles and takes Jesy's hand.

“I'm Perrie. I'm just here on a summer job,” she says.

“Do you live around here?” Jesy asks.

“No, I'm from Yorkshire, actually. Just really didn't want to stay at home for the summer. I know Cornwall's a bit weird, but it sounded nice,” Perrie says.

“It's the same for me,” Harry offers. “I'm from Cheshire and I just wanted to get out for a bit.”

“He says, even though he was on a gap year, and is going to London in the fall,” Jesy teases.

Harry grins at her.

“You can never get out of a tiny village too often or fast enough,” he says.

“I don't even live in a tiny village, I just really wanted to do something I hadn't done before this summer,” Perrie says.

“And I'm going to London too in the fall!” she adds then, beaming excitedly at Harry.

“Really? That's cool! Jesy lives there, so I plan to badger her about all the inside knowledge,” Harry says.

“Yeah, I've been trying that on Louis as well, but he's not around as much,” Perrie laughs.

“Well, I don't know about any inside knowledge, but if you have any questions or need any help or something, you can always ask me,” Jesy says, smiling at Perrie.

Perrie beams back at her. “Thanks! That's so nice. I'll definitely take you up on that.”

“So, which part of this meal did you make?” Harry turns to Niall to ask, leaving the two girls to themselves.

“None, actually. I do the early shifts, so I was done after lunch,” Niall says.

“Oh, cool. Is that your schedule for the whole summer?” Harry asks.

“Yep. They offered me a choice and I like doing mornings better. Leaves you more of the day to still do something with. And I don't mind getting up early,” Niall says.

“I don't really know our schedule yet, but if we're free afternoons as well, we should hang out,” Harry offers.

Niall grins at him.

“Yeah, absolutely. There's a golf course around an hour's drive away that I sometimes go to when there's enough time. Do you play?”

“No, I don't. But I can still walk with you, right? Carry your bag and such,” Harry says.

Niall laughs again.

“I'll take you up on that. That stuff is heavy,” he says, and then, looking at something over Harry's shoulder, “Oh, food's here.”

Harry turns and sees a few people in white chef's uniforms lugging in large trays of something, setting them up on those warming thingies that hotel buffets always have.

“I always wait out the rush. There's enough for everyone, and sometimes you get the first bit of the second batch,” Perrie says, mostly to Jesy, who nods at her.

“I'm not too hungry yet today either,” Niall says with a shrug, so they all wait for the rush to die down.

Louis comes to join them when they're already halfway through their meal, plate full, and chattering about his day. Harry scoots to the side to make room for him, fully intent on swerving his eyes to Perrie meaningfully should Jesy make any sort of comment, but, wisely, she doesn't. They all sit and chat for a while after the dishes have been cleared away, until Niall and Perrie bid them goodnight, both having to get up a lot earlier than the rest of them to help with breakfast. Louis hands them their schedules for the first week and tells them he'll come pick them up at breakfast to show them where they can find everything they need, and then retires as well, so Jesy and Harry decide to call it an early night themselves, trudging back up the stairs to their rooms again.

+++

_It's never warm here, and Harry shivers a bit despite the fire and the furs, and slides closer to his lover's body, wrapping his thin, freckled arms around his shoulders to steal a bit of body heat. His lover's arms are wrapped around his waist, and his beard tickles at Harry's skin as he kisses along the line of his arm, over a collarbone and the swell of his breasts before travelling up over his neck. He's whispering a litany of praise and love and Harry's name into his skin, and when he pulls back to look at Harry with the warmest brown eyes Harry has ever seen, he laughs a little._

_“What is it?” Harry asks, a giggle caught in his own voice._

_“Your hair glows so brightly in the firelight,” his lover says._

_The hair in question hangs down all along Harry's back to the small of it, some of it tumbling forward over his shoulders, draped along his arms like a red curtain to cocoon them in and shield them from the world. Harry wishes it could._

_“It's only an imitation,” Harry says._

_“It is. You shine far more brightly than any flame could.”_

+++

Harry wakes the next morning slightly tangled in his sheets, his head feeling like it's been stuffed with cotton wool while he was asleep. He blinks for a few seconds before he realises the noise that woke him is the alarm on his phone and rolls over to turn it off. Detangling his legs from the blanket, he reaches up to tiredly rub at his eyes, and sits up with a sigh. He's not usually one of those people who remember their dreams very clearly, but this one – at least impressions of it – are fresh in his mind. It was … weird. Not the weirdest dream Harry's ever had, but still weird. He doesn't often dream of being a girl, and having long red hair.

He knows the man he dreamed of called him by his name – not Harry's, but his dream self's – but he can't for the life of him remember what it was. Or what his lover's name was, for that matter.

Dreams are weird.

With another sigh he gets up out of bed, pulls on some clothes, and then goes to knock on Jesy's door. He rolls back and forth on the soles of his feet a little while she yells about being 'just a minute' and then flings open the door like she thought he might have left anyway.

Her hair's braided back today, and she's in denim dungarees and heavy, lace-up work boots. Harry grins to himself, remembering his thoughts about heavy equipment.

“Do I have something on my face?” Jesy asks.

“No, sorry. Just thinking,” Harry says and then swings an arm out. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, let's. I could eat a horse,” Jesy says.

Perrie and Niall – unsurprisingly – aren't at breakfast, but Louis's already sitting in front of an empty plate, sipping at a cup of tea and looking something over on an iPad.

“Are we late?” Jesy asks when they join him, each with their own plate.

“No, no. I just like being here early so I can sit longer,” Louis says. “Takes me a while to get going in the mornings. As long as you're here by half eight, it's fine. Officially you're supposed to do a nine-to-five kind of thing, with a one-hour lunch break, but as long as you do eight hours a day, you can start earlier, if you'd rather be done sooner. Right now it'll just be the two of you, most of the time, so you can basically decide between the two of you when you want to do your hours. You could probably work something out with the kitchen, if you wanted to get to it before breakfast. Or Niall will definitely smuggle you something.”

“I mean. We can try and leave at this time tomorrow,” Jesy says, looking over at Harry, “but please don't make me get up before six am.”

Harry laughs. “No worries, I'm not wildly into that idea either. It'd be nice to be done before five though.”

“Yeah,” Jesy agrees, and then turns to her breakfast.

Conversation is scarce between Louis busy and tired, and Jesy mostly pushing food around on her plate, despite her claims of being about to eat an entire horse.

They're to start with the attic of the coach house which will probably take them the whole first week, Louis explains on the way over after breakfast. Seeing the room a few moments later, Harry doesn't doubt the statement. It seems like every superfluous piece of furniture, decoration, or knick-knack has been crammed into this one room.

“This is Room of Hidden Things overstuffed,” Harry comments idly earning himself two blank looks.

“It's a Harry Potter thing. Never mind,” he waves them off.

Louis hands them a list of things to look for, instructions on how to separate the piles of stuff into classes and where to put everything that's definitely broken and garbage, and tells them he can't help out today, as he's good office things to do.

“But I'll leave you my phone number, and if there's anything that's unclear, you can just give me a ring. I can always come down for a few minutes,” he says. “To be honest, you'd probably be doing me a favour. I'm pretty much always looking for excuses to get out for a bit.”

“So, this isn't the kind of stuff you want to do when you're done with uni?” Jesy teases.

Louis laughs.

“It is, actually, but that doesn't mean there aren't parts of it that are extremely boring,” he says.

“Okay. Well, then, we'll call if we need anything,” Jesy says.

When Louis has left them to it, she puts her hands on her hips and looks into the room with a frown on her face.

“Where the fuck do you suggest we start?” she asks.

Harry laughs, and looks around as well, then comes to stand beside her.

“I say we first clear the large table over there, then we can put stuff down there, and work our way into the room from there? Do all the small stuff first, so we can even get to the furniture and all.”

Jesy nods.

“Solid plan. Good thing you've done this before, huh.”

“Well, there wasn't quite this much cleaning out of stuff to do on any of those projects, but I suppose the principle is the same,” he says.

Jesy grabs a pair of gloves that Louis brought for them, and marches over to the table. Harry grabs the second one and follows.

“We could play music from one of our phones? I've brought my docking station, but I left it in my room, cause I wasn't sure if you preferred working in silence?” he suggests.

“No, that's brilliant. Definitely bring it in the afternoon,” she says.

“Great. I think everything gets done better with music,” he says, pushing aside a few pieces of crockery on the table and sweeping the dust off the surface perfunctorily. Next to him, Jesy hums 'A Spoonful of Sugar'.

Grabbing a bowl and rudimentarily cleaning that of dust as well, Harry pulls up one of the playlists he'd made for himself for his mediterranean renovation projects, and sets the phone down in the bowl. It distorts the sound a bit, but it amplifies as well, and that's really all he's after at the moment.

“Smart,” Jesy comments, and then turns back to the table.

They work well together, the atmosphere light despite all the dust that has them both coughing every now and then, and by the time they've been there long enough to go back to the house for lunch, they've gotten through a larger part of the room than Harry had assumed. They haven't found anything truly interesting yet, but there's still plenty stuff left in that attic.

Niall and Perrie join them for lunch before they have to get back to finish off their own shifts, but promise to come down and keep them company after they're done. When they do, Perrie falls asleep curled up on a dusty, old armchair with a spring poking out of the seat, and Niall sits cross-legged on the table next to their phones and joins them in their singalongs, or regales them with various anecdotes of his time in the kitchen.

All in all, it's a good first day. If it's any indicator of the next six weeks, Harry's going to be more than just fine with that.

+++

_Harry giggles and his lover shushes him, laughter bright in his warm eyes._

_“Quiet, my love. You know the walls have ears,” he says._

_“Oh, let them hear. Let them know my heart is yours and yours alone,” Harry says, bright and angry, yet still malleable in his lover's hands, cradled to his chest and suddenly so very tired._

_“Think of finer things than that, sweet girl,” his lover says._

_Harry giggles again and trails a hand down his lover's chest, hidden only by a thin scrap of a shirt that surely can't be keeping him warm enough. Yet he never seems to complain of cold._

_“I can think of a few,” Harry says._

_His lover laughs quietly, yet delightedly, into the crown of Harry's long hair, braided out of his face loosely._

_“So can I,” he says, and then there's no more talking, only the tickle of his beard against Harry's face, and the strong hands that undo the lacing of Harry's dress quickly. The cold night air makes him shiver for a moment, but his lover's hand up his spine make him shiver more, and Harry forgets all about the cold as they stumble towards the bed, hands never straying from each other's skin._

_Harry's lover lies down on top of the sheets, all languid, strong limbs and bright, loving eyes, and Harry can't quite believe he's this lucky. That this man loves him with all his heart._

_Harry climbs into his lap, wet already, and feeling so achingly empty, rocking against the line of his hard prick even as he leans down for a kiss, the braid sliding over a shoulder to tease at his lover's skin. They move together seamlessly, kissing and running their hands over each other until Harry can't take it anymore, has to lift up and let his lover in, take him into his body, and swallow him up the only way he can. He never wants to leave this bed, never wants to be any less connected than bare skin on bare skin, the hot, hard length of him moving inside Harry with every tilt of their hips. The warm glow of the fire reflected in the warm glow of his eyes that stare up at Harry with far more adoration than he, or anyone, can possibly deserve._

+++

The next morning, Harry wakes up more than just tangled in his sheets, skin sweaty, and cock throbbing hotly between his legs. He bucks up into the restricting drag of the sheets without thinking, before realising that his alarm's going off again, and he should really be glad that he didn't come into the sheets during the night, and should probably not do it now that he's awake.

The remnants of his dream still cling to his mind, his hips hitching back and forth even after he's kicked the blanket off and is trying not to think about it. Which is hard to do, when at the same time, he's trying to remember everything about it. It's blurry now that he's awake, the same way dreams always seems to be, and Harry puts a hand low on his abdomen, a phantom ache of someone moving inside him differently than how he's ever felt it before.

Two nights in a row of dreaming of not just being a girl, but being that specific girl? What on Earth is Harry's brain working through?

His snooze alarm rings and startles Harry out of his musings, and he flails off the bed, pulling on underwear and a t-shirt before grabbing a towel and making a beeline for the bathroom, the towel clutched tightly before him. This morning definitely calls for a cold shower. And no more thoughts of those kind, warm eyes.

Jesy's the one to knock on his door that morning, seeming bubblier than she has yesterday despite being up a good thirty minutes earlier. The reminds Harry to grab his docking station, and chats about anything inconsequential that seems to pop into her head all the way down to breakfast and up until Louis joins them and informs them he'll be able to help them out this morning, since he has no prior commitments until after lunch.

“Is this one of the days you're looking for excuses to get out of your office then?” Jesy teases.

Louis laughs.

“Guilty,” he says. “I just can't spend another day sitting in that tiny room with only spread sheets and emails to keep me company.”

Jesy laughs, and when Harry doesn't do more than grin, Louis looks over at him with a question on his face, tilting his head.

“Didn't sleep well?” he asks.

“Just a really exhausting dream,” Harry says, and tries for a reassuring smile.

“Ah, those happen,” Louis says wisely and smiles back. His eyes are kind and warm, and blur momentarily with the memory of another pair of kind, warm eyes Harry has been seeing, so he turns away under the pretense of going back to his breakfast and prays to any god that will listen that he's not blushing.

Judging by the way Jesy nudges his foot under the table, he's not as subtle as he hoped.

“You can always get in a siesta and catch up,” Louis suggests with a cheeky grin.

“Is that what you do?” Harry asks, grinning back.

“Might be. Are you asking to join me?” Louis teases.

“Might be,” Harry says, earning himself a laugh.

When Louis gets up to get himself another cup of tea, Jesy nudges Harry's foot again, only harder this time.

“Harry! What was that!”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, pushing his baked beans around on the plate. He's not quite sure why he picked them. He doesn't even really like them.

“That blatant flirting?”

“Oh,” Harry says. A fork full of beans suddenly seems like a better alternative than answering that. Jesy doesn't exactly let him off the hook though, only kicks him again, when he's going for more beans.

“Um, it just kind of happened?” Harry offers.

“You never said you were this smooth,” she says, sounding vaguely like she's complaining, but impressed at the same time.

“I'm not, really. Flirting's… easy. It's just like small talk, only a bit more interesting,” Harry says with a shrug.

Jesy gives him a shrewd look.

Harry rolls his eyes at her, but he wouldn't exactly mind it if she were right. He doesn't even know if Louis's at all amenable to boys, or to Harry, but as far as summer romances go, Harry could do a lot worse than Louis. He _is_ rather pretty.

“A summer romance already, Harold? You work fast,” Louis says, sitting back down.

Harry bites back the urge to kick Jesy, because surely this is her fault somehow, and turns to smile at Louis instead.

“Not really, Jesy's just teasing,” he says.

“So no one's caught your eye?” Louis asks, sipping at his tea, the picture of innocence. Harry tries to get a read on his expression, but Louis keeps it carefully blank.

“It's not a hard eye to catch,” he says.

Louis lifts one eyebrow very deliberately.

“Are you saying you're a bit of slag, Harry Styles?” Louis asks.

Harry splutters and shakes his head while Jesy laughs.

“No! I just meant – I like people, in general. All people are beautiful if you know how to look at them, some are just more someone's type, I think,” he says.

Louis smiles that kind smile with his eyes again.

“That's a very sweet way to look at it,” he says.

Harry shrugs and smiles.

“You're gonna be super impressed with our system,”Jesy says into the ensuing silence.

“System?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, to sort everything and such. Harry suggested it and it's been working like a charm,” Jesy says.

“Well, let's see this miracle then,” Louis suggests, grinning over at Harry, as he gathers up his dishes and gets up to get them back to the kitchen.

“I really wouldn't call it a miracle. Common sense, maybe,” Harry protests, following.

Jesy spends the whole walk to the old cart shed spinning increasingly unlikely tales about Harry's sorting system and the ensuing heroics he supposedly performed in the attic yesterday, Louis laughing and joining in. Harry just rolls his eyes at them. Gentle ribbing is something he's all too familiar with. Thanks, Gemma.

“As your sort-of boss, I say this is a small miracle,” Louis declares when they all step into the attic. “I honestly wasn't sure order could be brought into this place, but you're doing it.

“It's only this small part,” Harry says, gesturing at the table they've commandeered and the are around it, where they've started to go through everything else. “And you're not really our boss, are you. You're an intern. We're employed with Petersen.”

Jesy snorts indelicately and takes the docking station from Harry's hands, setting it up with her phone over on the table.

“You're temps,” Louis points out. “I'm an intern for longer than you're a temp. And I get to tell you what to do.”

“You get to tell us what others have decided we're supposed to do. You're the messenger,” Harry grins.

Louis squints his eyes at him like he's trying to find a comeback, but in the end just laughs.

“Yeah, neither of us are really the boss of anyone in this situation, are we,” he says.

“We're the boss of this mess,” Jesy declares, pulling on her gloves and turning up the music before turning to said mess and getting started.

Harry and Louis follow suit.

Just like the day before, the morning passes quickly – even quicker now that Louis's here as well, adding his own teasing remarks to Jesy's jokes, or laughing at Harry's dry comments. They work well together as a team, even if Jesy keeps coming up with reasons to do things by herself while Harry and Louis 'need' to do any given task together. Louis obviously notices, giving how his eyes twinkle every time Jesy finds them something else to do, but he doesn't complain, and he chats amiably all through the time they spend together, so Harry supposes he can't be too mad at Jesy.

He still pays her back by being the world's most obvious wingman at lunch when Perrie comes to join them. Perrie, bless her, doesn't seem to notice. It flusters Jesy, and amuses Louis though, so Harry counts it as a win, overall. Louis has to go back to administrative work in the afternoon, which means Jesy teases Harry mercilessly about all the supposed flirting that Harry did with Louis, anyway. (Which, alright, she's right about at least half of it. It's not exactly like Louis is discouraging it, and Harry's always found flirting fun. Even if nothing comes of, Harry likes flirting for the sake of it.) It's a good thing they're not keeping score, probably, because Harry thinks Jesy would be beating him.

Niall and Perrie come to hang out again, which makes the afternoon pass just as easily as the morning did, with Jesy possibly just a bit more distracted by Perrie than she should be, but Niall's not hesitant about helping out, and so it's not like they get any less done.

They pass the whole first week like that, working on the attic with Louis occasionally there to help out and Niall and Perrie hanging out in the afternoon. On Friday, after dinner, Jesy mentions Harry's idea of a picnic or bonfire, and the idea is quickly met with enthusiastic agreement, so late Saturday afternoon they all find themselves down in the little bay for an early-slash-extended dinner of mostly sandwiches courtesy of Niall and the kitchens. Niall even brings a guitar, and they all try to outdo each other with silly renditions of bonfire classics until Perrie and Jesy harmonise over a melody so effortlessly that no one can bring themselves to butt in, leaving Perrie and Jesy to trail off in the sudden silence.

“That was… wow,” Louis finally says, breaking the spell.

Niall immediately starts outlining a plan to form a band, and Perrie and Jesy try to laugh him off, equal parts flattered and embarrassed.

Harry watches them with a grin on his face. The day's still pleasantly warm, even though the sun's close to setting, he's had good food and good company… this really is shaping up to be the paid vacation Jesy claimed it would be.

They end up not staying out too late, Perrie and Niall having to work on the weekends, since those tend to be busiest for the b&b. Jesy, Perrie, and Niall are still somewhat engaged in their conversation, though as far as Harry can tell it has moved on somewhat from him trying to persuade them to form a pop group together, and Louis and Harry are trailing a little behind.

“Harry?” Louis says, catching his attention, but not the other three's.

“Yeah?” Harry says, looking away from them and over at Louis, who's got his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts.

“Tell me if I'm, like, wildly off base here, but you've… been flirting with me, yeah?” he asks.

“Oh, um. I-- yeah. I have. Are you-- do you want me to stop? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” Harry says, feeling the line of his shoulders go a bit tense.

Louis laughs a little.

“No, that's not what I meant,” he says. “Have you not noticed that I've been flirting back?”

“I mean, I didn't want to read too much into it. Sometimes flirting's just that,” Harry says with a shrug.

Louis nods along.

“Yeah, I suppose sometimes it is, but. Look. I know you're only here for another five weeks, and I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend or anything, but I quite like you,” Louis says. “And I think you're really fit.”

“So, you're saying this is the kind of flirting that's going somewhere?” Harry asks, a little thrill running down his spine. Louis is funny, and sweet, and he's so gorgeous, with his bright blue eyes, and his wide smiles.

“I'm saying I wouldn't be averse if it did,” Louis says.

“Hm. Well, I quite like you too. And I think you're downright gorgeous,” Harry says, pleased to note that Louis's lashes flutter a little bashfully, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth at the compliment. “And if you want to have a little summer romance, I'm definitely up for it.”

“Lovely,” Louis says. He pulls his hands back out of his pockets and reaches out with the one closer to Harry to teasingly trail a fingertip down the back of Harry's hand.

When Harry laughs, Louis grins up at him.

“Glad we had this talk,” Harry says.

“Yes, it's so important to communicate clearly,” Louis says, lacing his fingers behind his back with a grin when Harry reaches out for him to retaliate.

Harry lets himself be baited for a moment or two, and then, when Niall, Jesy and Perrie have already gone inside, he grabs for Louis' arm and steals a kiss.

Louis makes a startled little noise, but he kisses Harry back, grin still pulling at his lips even while he's moving them against Harry's. His hands stay firmly behind his own back, and it makes Harry grin as well.

“You went there,” Louis says when Harry pulls back, beaming proudly when Harry bursts into a startled laugh.

“You went there too,” Harry points out.

“We did just discuss how this is all mutual, didn't we,” Louis says, and lets his hands drop back to his sides, reminding Harry he's still not let go of Louis' arm. They stand there for a moment, until Harry steps back and sweeps out an arm.

“After you,” he says.

Louis curtseys, pulling out a pretend skirt, and then dashes up the stairs in front of Harry. It's not like he has to, but there's really no other way for Harry to react to that than to run after him, is there?

Jesy, who's chatting to Perrie leaning against the door to her room gives them a disapproving look that makes them fake twin looks of chagrin to make her roll her eyes at them. Harry would try for another kiss if it weren't for the audience, but as it is, he simply says good night to them all and strokes a finger down Louis' hand where Jesy and Perrie can't see.

+++

_“No, no, no, don't close your eyes,” Harry says, panic burning blindly in the back of his mind. He can't allow that to take over yet, has to focus on what's happening right in front of him, on his lover's shaking, and the blood running from his side, on the ashy pallor of his skin and the lack of focus in his eyes._

_“Look at me, dear, can you see the flowers in my hair?” he asks._

_His lover opens his eyes and tries to focus on Harry's hair, a grimace half like a smile on his face._

_“The blue ones,” he says._

_“Yes, the blue ones,” Harry confirms. “Can you count them for me? I'm afraid I've forgotten quite how many of them there are.”_

_It doesn't matter, of course, how many blue flowers are woven into Harry's hair, but it gives his lover something to focus on, something that Harry himself doesn't have to try too hard to provide, like a conversation. His lover's speech is a little slurred as he counts out loud, but that could be the poultice Harry gave him as much as the blow he suffered – well, any of the blows he suffered._

_So Harry holds himself tightly together, focuses on every task at hand, and only when his lover is asleep, and Harry's left alone by all the helpers who'd rushed to bring water and clean cloth, needle and thread, and medicine, that he allows his body to sag and the tears to fall._

+++

Harry's cheeks are wet when he wakes up. This whole dream business is starting to be seriously messed up. Sex dreams Harry can handle, but death dreams? No, thank you.

When Jesy comes to ask if he wants to hang out he claims a need for me-time, and when Louis knocks on his door, he grabs his running gear and tells him he was just about to go for a run. He doesn't think they're quite at the 'cuddle me for no reason' stage of the summer romance yet. Louis waves off the invitation to join Harry, and tells him to come find him later instead, so Harry pulls on his shorts and an old t-shirt, laces up his trainers and goes for a run around the grounds. If he's lucky, he's going to tire himself out today somehow, and have a night of dreamless sleep, finally.

After lunch, which he eats alone, unable to find any of the others, he goes back to wandering around the grounds, snapping pictures for his instagram. Predictably, Mum calls only a little while after he's posted them all, so he spends a good while chatting to her while aimlessly walking around the estate. He finds Perrie and Jesy at the bay once Mum's hung up, and since they wave him down, he doesn't feel too bad about joining them. It's only once they're all laughing together that the last knot of anxiety loosens in his chest, and Harry manages to shake the dream off.

Louis' not at dinner, but he knocks on Harry's door after, smiling when Harry swings it open.

“You didn't come to find me,” he says, though there's no accusation in his tone, only curiosity.

Harry gives him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I bumped into Jesy and Perrie down at the bay and we just kind of… chatted all afternoon.”

Louis hums acknowledgment, and leans forward, reaching out a hand to take hold of the side of Harry's face and pull their lips together in a kiss. It's not quite as sweet and harmless as the first one; a little more languid, a little more involved, but it's over quickly as well.

“Good night,” Louis says, eyes bright.

Harry laughs softly.

“Good night,” he repeats.

+++

_Harry's lover plucks the blue flowers out of Harry's hair one by one, the blooms wilting as they fall to the floor. Harry's magic can't do much, but it can do this – give flowers a bit more life even after they've been plucked. He remembers when keeping just one flower fresh in his hair had exhausted him, but now he barely feels all twenty-three of them._

_“You're beyond this world, princess,” his lover says._

_Harry has to laugh._

_“I'm no faery, Sir,” he says._

_His knight brushes Harry's hair aside to kiss the exposed skin of his neck. Harry shivers at the touch._

_“You have bewitched me,” he says. “No magic spell or potion could ever be as potent as the vision of your sweet face after you'd brought me back from death's door.”_

_“If it's gratitude only, Sir, there's no need for recompense,” Harry says._

_“Gratitude? No. Though I owe you that and more, it is my deepest, humblest affection I mean to offer. I have no more to give than that,” he says._

_“You're leaving,” Harry protests._

_“Only because I can't stay. I'm expected,” his lover says. “But I'll return for you, if you'll have me.”_

_“Then I will wait for you,” Harry promises, and turns to kiss his knight right there amongst the fallen flowers._

+++

Harry sighs when he wakes up, this time before his alarm even went off. He's not tangled hopelessly in the sheets, and there wasn't any imminent death at least, but there's really no ignoring that these dreams are getting to be really, really strange. Harry has had repeated dreams before. He had that cliché dream about showing up at school naked for a solid four days leading up to his A-levels, but that was the same dream, over and over. Not a continuing narrative, even if Harry's not quite sure where this story started.

He's grumpy at breakfast and he knows it, so he makes a concerted effort to laugh at Jesy's jokes in the cart shed attic later, and joins her in her singalongs at her prodding. Supposedly making yourself laugh tricks your brain into thinking you're in a good mood. Harry's sure he read that somewhere once. His mood is aided, he has to admit, when Louis shows up shortly before lunch and claims to need to show Harry something, pulling him from the stuffy attic.

“What is it?” Harry asks, only to be difficult.

Louis rolls his eyes, and pushes Harry up against a wall. They're really not being subtle at all, but Jesy's doing them the favour of loudly singing along to her playlist, and Louis' mouth is a welcome heat when he opens it to Harry's.

“Hello,” Louis says, when they pull apart again.

“Hello,” Harry says back, a bit amused.

“I've got a lunch meeting, but I'm coming to help you out in the afternoon,” Louis says.

“Is that all you came to say?” Harry asks.

“No, I came for the kiss. The information was just a courtesy,” Louis says. “Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it at the meeting.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, the boss's boss is coming in,” Louis says.

“Well then,” Harry says, and pulls Louis back in again by the wrist. Louis lets himself be kissed for a moment, but then steps away.

“For good luck,” Harry says with a grin that Louis returns.

“So what did he want?” Jesy asks when Harry steps back into the attic. She's grinning in a way that means she definitely knows what Louis wanted.

“A good luck charm,” Harry says with a grin, and waits for the moment it takes Jesy to work out what he means. She oooh-s at him and punches him in the shoulder – honestly, it hurts more than he thinks it should – and then makes him do the heavy lifting for the remainder of the morning, not that much of it is left.

They eat lunch just the two of them, and Jesy laughs for a good minute when she realises that one of the other staff members gave Harry a subtle thumbs up for it, clearly misreading the situation.

“It's not that funny,” Harry says, though he's grinning himself.

“Well, no, but. You were literally just making out with Louis less than two hours ago, and here people think you're trying to shag me,” Jesy points out, wiping tears off her cheeks.

“I think the idea of you ever shagging me is a lot more laughable than the other way around,” Harry says drily and Jesy waves him off.

“Yes, but they don't know that,” she says.

“They don't know about Louis and me either!”

“They're gonna soon if you don't keep your voice down though,” she grins, laughing a little again when Harry flushes and hunches his shoulders a bit. A subtle glance around the room reveals that no one seems to have heard him, but he glares at Jesy anyway, just for good measure. She only beams back at him sunnily and goes back to her food.

Louis, Niall and Perrie show up together that afternoon, all three of them taking pity on Harry and Jesy and the Endless Attic and setting about helping them. Just clearing it out probably wouldn't be too much of a hassle, but having to try and decide what to keep and what not to, and where to put the things that they think might be worth keeping on top of that makes the task a bit more complicated than it looks on paper. Niall and Perrie put themselves in charge of the latter duty, and Harry, Jesy and Louis lug things about the room, letting the two of them direct them from their perch on the table Harry and Jesy claimed on their very first morning.

“Well,” Louis says, dusting off his hands even though he's been wearing gloves, while Jesy tries to stretch out the kinks in her back, “I'd say you'll probably be able to get the rest done tomorrow morning, right?”

“Yeah, we should be done by lunch,” Harry says.

“Perfect,” Louis says, giving a satisfied nod. “Then I'll come in with the boss to see what they actually want to keep after lunch and you can move on to the rest of the rooms. None of them should take as long as this one though.”

“Great. Now can we get some food?” Jesy asks, Niall nodding wildly behind her.

“Yes, yes. Off you go children,” Louis says, sighing like a put-upon babysitter.

Jesy grabs Niall and Perrie by the hands and pulls them out of the room, loudly telling them to get the hell out of there before Louis could find something else for them to do.

Louis makes an offended noise in return, but Harry can't help but laugh.

“You know she did that to give us privacy, right?” Harry says.

“She knows about us?” Louis asks.

Harry levels him with an unimpressed look.

“You showed up here this morning, made the flimsiest excuse, and then stayed only long enough to kiss me. She's not an idiot,” he says.

“So she thinks we're using this time to snog up against all this dusty furniture?” Louis asks.

“Definitely, yeah,” Harry says.

“Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint her,” Louis says, and backs Harry against a piece of said dusty furniture, locking him in between his arms perched against the armoire, Harry thinks it is.

“Dinner though,” Harry protests quietly, eyes already half-lidded in their attempt to keep looking at Louis' lips as they get ever closer.

“We'll make it quick,” Louis says.

And make it quick he does. Louis leans in and brushes the softest of barely-there pecks against Harry's lips before stepping back again, clearly pleased with himself at the way Harry's eyes flutter open a bit too slowly to be entirely unaffected.

“That's very mean,” Harry mumbles.

“I'm a bad boy,” Louis solemnly proclaims.

Harry can't help the laughter that bursts out of him. Louis doesn't seem too offended at any rate.

“Come on, I'm actually pretty hungry,” Harry says then, turning out of the room. Louis follows him down the stairs.

The girls and Niall haven't bothered waiting for them, but they're chatting and walking at a leisurely pace, so it's easy to catch up to them. They're joined at dinner by one of the cooks Niall has befriended, another Niall everyone has taken to call by his last name since Niall showed up. Somehow, Harry things, that makes perfect sense, even if in any other case he'd expect the newcomer to be saddled the nickname. There's just no way anyone would be able to do that to Niall's sunny face, even if he probably wouldn't mind one bit.

“We're gonna go for a walk, maybe down to the bay for a bit,” Jesy says later, licking the last of her mango jelly off her spoon. “Do you two want to come with?”

Harry's about to accept, when Louis nudges his foot with his own and says, “Thanks, I'll stay in. I've got a bit more stuff I should take care of before tomorrow.”

“You, H?” Perrie asks.

“I promised to call my mum,” he says. “Tomorrow?”

Perrie seems to accept it, but Jesy winks at them like she didn't buy it for a second, and when they leave, she's whispering to Perrie, making her giggle. So that's probably that.

“Jesy's a great secret keeper,” Louis says sardonically, and sets down his own jelly.

Harry turns to him with a slight frown.

“Were you trying to keep it a secret?” he asks.

Louis sighs. “No, not as such. I looked it up, you know. I'm not, in any significant way, your boss, so there's nothing wrong with it. I just… tend to keep these things to myself, I guess? Perks of growing up in a busy household, I think.”

“You have a lot of siblings?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, four younger sisters,” Louis says. “I love them all to death, but you can probably imagine what it's like whenever I bring someone home.”

Harry grins. He can only imagine what it'd be like if Gemma were younger than him, and, god, if there were four of her. Harry's not sure how he would've handled himself.

“I've only got one older sister,” he volunteers.

“No brothers?” Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head. “No, you?”

“No,” Louis says, and then pinches Harry's cheek. “Aw, that means you're the baby!”

“Yes. A nineteen year old baby. My mum and sister remind me of it frequently,” Harry deadpans.

“Can't blame them, with these adorable cheeks you've got,” Louis says.

Harry rolls his eyes, and rubs at his smarting cheek when Louis finally lets go.

“The other cheeks aren't too bad either,” Louis leans to murmur and then grabs Harry's empty jelly dish as well as his own and carries them back over to the cart for the dirty dishes to be picked up by the kitchen staff when dinner is done.

Harry watches him go, so Louis jerks his head towards the door instead of coming to collect him and then ushers him towards the stairs.

“So, you probably figured out that I don't actually have work to do, right?” Louis asks.

Harry laughs.

“Believe it or not, I did,” he says.

“Great. So do you want to go lie on my bed and snog, or were you actually going to call your mum?”

Harry assumed that's where all this was going, but hearing it out loud like that still makes his ears heat up a little, and his stomach squirm excitedly.

“I did actually say I'd call her tonight, but I can do it later,” Harry says.

“No, do it now. I don't want to have to keep your mum in mind so we'll stop at a reasonable time,” Louis says, pushing up behind Harry on the stairs and squeezing his hips.

Harry nods and fumbles his phone from his pocket.

“Good thinking,” he says, and dials his mother's contact.

“Harry, darling, I wasn't expecting your call until later!” she says when she picks up.

“Oh, am I calling at a bad time? I can call back later,” he says, letting Louis gently guide him along the stairs and corridors to Louis' room.

“No, no, I was only surprised,” she says.

“Well, we just had dinner and we're going to hang out in a bit, so I thought I'd check in before that,” Harry says.

“That sounds nice,” Mum says.

“Yeah, it's a lot of fun so far,” Harry confirms.

Mum sighs. “I'm glad. I was worried you'd be stuck with no one to talk to but stodgy old people who own manor houses for six weeks,” she says.

Harry laughs, stepping into Louis' room after him once he's got the door unlocked.

“No, everyone's nice. Jesy's great, we work really well together and she's fun. And I told you about Louis, Niall and Perrie as well,” he says.

“Are they the ones you're off to see now?”

“Yeah, we're just chatting most evenings, or going for walks or such things,” he says.

“Well, it definitely sounds like you're getting more of a vacation in Cornwall than you would've if you'd stayed here and worked at Mandeville's,” Mum says.

“Mum, you know it's not that I didn't want to spend the summer with you and Robin...” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly.

Louis looks up from where he's slipping off his shoes and frowns at him in concern. Harry smiles and waves him off.

“I know, I know, I'm just being broody,” she says.

“Is this your way of telling me you're pregnant?” Harry teases.

“Oh, don't be ridiculous, Harry, you know that's not going to happen,” she says, but she's laughing. “Maybe I'll just adopt another kitten.”

“Well, now you're making me really jealous,” Harry says, letting Louis grab his free hand and pull him over to the bed. He sits obediently and tries not to laugh when Louis kneels to peel off his shoes. He really hopes his feet don't smell too bad. If they do, Louis has the courtesy not to mention anything.

“Harry?” Mum asks.

“Sorry, got distracted thinking of kittens,” Harry says.

Louis grins up at him and raises an eyebrow before crudely poking his tongue between his index and middle fingers. Harry gives him a shove with his foot.

“I was wondering how your actual work's going,” Mum says.

“Oh. It's going pretty well. It's more prep work and less actual restoration work, but that was to be expected, I suppose,” Harry says.

Louis is fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, looking askance at Harry.

“Yes, they probably have the resources and the drive to do everything properly, don't they,” Mum says.

Harry nods at Louis.

“Yeah, so we're mostly just cleaning out the cart shed currently. I don't actually know what they'll have us do once we're done with that,” Harry says.

Louis grabs the back of the neck of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. The slight golden hue of a summer tan spreads evenly over all of his chest, and Harry swallows against the dryness in his throat.

“I'm sure they'll think of something,” Mum says. “They wouldn't have hired you for a full six weeks otherwise.”

“That's true,” Harry says and gives Louis a nod when he reaches for the hem of Harry's t-shirt.

“I'll let you get back to your friends then, I can tell you're distracted,” Mum says while Harry's letting Louis carefully guide one arm out of the t-shirt sleeve.

“Distracted?” he repeats, catching Louis' amused gaze and giving a sheepish shrug. “A little maybe.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at that as though he's about to rise to that challenge, but Harry gives him an entreating look and a shake of his head, so Louis only gestures for him to switch his phone to the other hand.

“It's alright, I'm glad you're doing well,” Mum says.

“Thanks. I'll call again soon, yeah?” he offers.

“Sure, darling, anytime,” Mum laughs as though she were indulging him.

Instead of attempting to pull the t-shirt over Harry's head, Louis is pushing his palms up over Harry's chest, feeling out the contours of him, so Harry tells his mother a slightly hasty good-bye, and then sets his phone aside.

“In a rush?” he asks, pulling the shirt off and letting it drop to the floor next to the bed.

“Not a rush as such,” Louis says, pushing at Harry's shoulders a little until he gives in and lies down, letting Louis hover above him.

“Eager, then?” Harry teases, voice a bit lower now that Louis's closer.

Somehow he expected Louis to tease him back, or deny it, but instead he just taps at one of Harry's nipples and nods.

“Very eager, yeah,” he says.

“Oh,” Harry says, surprise and excitement sparking down his spine and settling, still bright, low in his belly. “Don't hold back on my account, then.”

“Alright,” Louis mumbles with a cheeky smile and leans down to kiss Harry. One of his hands is still resting on Harry's chest, fingers idle, while the other is keeping him propped up on the mattress so he doesn't just lie on top of Harry. Not that Harry would mind that.

Louis' lips are warm and soft, and for a moment Harry just lets himself be kissed, opens his mouth to Louis' tongue and goes along with the soft playful swipes of it, tilts his head to accommodate the tilt of Louis' own so they can kiss a bit more deeply, a bit more intimately. Louis fingers start tracing shapes on Harry's skin without any sort of intent; just to feel Harry's skin and make goosebumps spring up on it.

Mostly, while Harry woke up worked up by his dreams, he hasn't been plagued by them when awake, except when Louis smiled at him a bit too warmly, and he suddenly got flashes of remembrance. But when he puts his own hands on Louis' bare hips, feeling his warm skin under his fingers, it's like his brain suddenly remembers all the times he woke up hard and aching for someone's touch who wasn't even there in the first place.

And now here someone is, real, tangible, and _touching Harry_ and it's like all the morning wood of the past week rolls into one and punches him low in the gut.

Harry moans at the swipe of Louis' tongue behind his teeth and runs his hands up over Louis' back, his shoulder blades spreading out as if he's about to take flight, and buries a hand in Louis' hair to hold on to him and start kissing him back _properly_. To give as good as he's getting and, if he can manage, then some.

“Eager?” Louis barely pulls away to tease, mouth trailing over the line of Harry's jaw and nipping at his chin.

“Very,” Harry echoes and ducks down to capture Louis' lips in a kiss again.

Louis comes willingly, letting Harry delve into his mouth and explore the way Louis has earlier before pushing back and racking up the heat of their exchange. It's only when Louis' hips rut against Harry's own that Harry notices he's got a leg wound around one of Louis' and is effectively pulling him down on top of him. Good thinking by his subconscious, that, because the friction, though maddeningly mild, is absolutely delicious.

Harry pushes his hips up into Louis' in response, to get Louis to do it again, to try and find some sort of rhythm that'll hopefully get them both off, or at least be an outlet for the need vibrating along Harry's veins.

Louis obliges easily, sinking down onto Harry and slotting his hips on top of Harry like they're two pieces of a whole, fitting together easily. There's no awkward bumbling to find how they work together – or if there is, Harry doesn't notice, because Louis lips are distracting, and Louis' hands are more distracting, and the pressure on his cock from Louis' hips the very most distracting, and as good as he feels, he just doesn't care about how expertly they're doing this. When it feels this good, it has to be done perfectly.

“You feel so good,” Harry mumbles, tilting his head back when Louis moves his mouth down along the column of his throat, lips tingling.

“Fuck, yes. You too,” Louis says, his breath ticklish on the damp skin he leaves behind and Harry shivers almost violently under it.

Harry can feel the pressure mounting in his crotch, and toes his socks off to stroke his feet up Louis' bare calves. Thank god for Louis' penchant for shorts.

“God, are we really--- really gonna come in our pants?” Louis huffs, laugh stuck in his voice.

Harry grins through a moan and squeezes at the meat of Louis' shoulder.

“We don't have to,” he says.

Louis hums thoughtfully and then nips at Harry's skin with his teeth.

“You're a bit of a slag after all, aren't you,” he teases.

“Just not a fan of having to try and wash out those stains in the sink to be honest,” Harry says. “But, like, just an offer, yeah?”

Louis chuckles and comes back up to peck Harry on the lips, and the tip of his nose. He's smiling that incredibly warm smile of his again, that has Harry forgetting about anything else for a moment.

“You're so sweet,” Louis says, appreciative, and like he's a little surprised. His hair's a mess from where Harry has been running his fingers through it, and there are red spots high on his cheeks. His eyes are glittering and his lips are raspberry pink.

“You're so gorgeous,” Harry blurts, making Louis laugh, the crinkles by his eyes only proving Harry right.

“I feel like that should be my line,” Louis says, stroking a gentle hand down over the plane of Harry's chest.

“We can share it,” Harry says and then tilts his head back up. If they're just going to banter, they might as well continue kissing.

Louis obliges with a deep kiss and then lets his hand trail further down until he can push his fingers beneath Harry's jeans and grab the waistband, tugging at it a little.

“You want to get rid of these then?” Louis mumbles.

Harry hums his response and reaches down to pop the button open himself. Louis takes it as a cue to sit up, shuffling off of Harry, and takes care of his own shorts. Harry hesitates only a brief moment before hooking his thumbs into his underwear as well and pushing both of them down over his thighs. What's the point, after all, of getting out of his jeans if he's just going to stain his underwear anyway. Louis catches the movement and halts his own for a moment, biting his lip as he watches the black fabric reveal more and more of his skin. He reaches down to help Harry push them off over his feet so he doesn't have to sit up, giving his ankle a squeeze as he passes his hand back up along Harry's leg.

“You too,” Harry says then, voice croaky and low.

Louis smiles slowly and gets up to unceremoniously push his own shorts and underwear to the floor.

“Still gorgeous,” Harry says with a lopsided grin, and holds out a hand to Louis to get him to come back to bed.

“Charmer,” Louis says, and grabs Harry's hand to let him pull him back down on top of Harry's body, not a shred of clothing between them this time. Louis settles over Harry's lap and grinds their cocks together, both of them moaning out at the contact.

Harry is transfixed by the sight of it, their cocks nestled together and his own already shiny at the tip. He reaches down to wrap his hand around both of them, giving them a good squeeze and a jerk. Louis' abs flutter at the sensation and he makes a hurt little noise, but when Harry looks up at his face he nods down at him.

“Yeah,” he says, so Harry does it again, slower this time.

Louis' hips stutter into the touch, seeking out more friction. It's mesmerising to watch, and so Harry does it again, ignoring the way his own dick aches for more stimulation as well. Louis starts making these tiny little noises, like he's trying to keep them inside, but when Harry glances up at him, Louis is staring at their cocks as well, both hands on the mattress to steady himself where he's hunched over Harry and chewing on his lip. He's a vision head to toe, and Harry can't help the grin that steals onto his lips.

His orgasm almost takes Harry by surprise, toes curling and gut clenching only moments before he's spilling over his own hand and stomach, splotches of white on the slightly sweaty skin.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes and ruts into Harry's slightly looser hand.

Harry lets go of his own cock then and redoubles his efforts on Louis, teasing the tip of his cock with his thumb on the uptwist and jacking him harder. It's only a few minutes until Louis follows him over the edge, adding his own come to the one already dripping over Harry's hand and torso.

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles and then leans down to kiss Harry before he's got the opportunity to say anything. It's not like Harry minds particularly much anyway.

The need under his skin to be as close to Louis as possible is a little sated from their orgasm, but Harry still has to remind himself twice that his hand is still sticky and gross and he definitely cannot put it in Louis' hair and hold him closer right now.

They kiss until their heartbeats calm back down again, and then Louis settles on his side next to Harry, propping his head up on his hand as he looks down at him. Harry can only stare back.

“There are tissues in the nightstand,” Louis finally says, glancing over at it quickly.

Harry follows his eyes and then holds up his dirty hand, which is the one closer to the nightstand. Louis huffs an exaggerated sigh and reaches over Harry to grab a few tissues from the box inside it. He hands some to Harry and then wipes at the mess on Harry's belly himself, grinning when Harry's body jolts at the way he squeezes his cock a little too hard to be incidental as he's wiping that off too.

“Give me a few minutes,” Harry laughs, but he doesn't close his legs or shy away from Louis' touch.

Louis just goes back to cleaning him off and then dumps the balled up tissues on the floor.

Harry leans up to peck him on the mouth.

“You okay?” he asks.

Louis nods.

“Yeah, I'm good,” he says. “I just… really didn't expect to get so caught up? I really did just want to snog for a bit when I asked you up.”

Harry nods.

“Yeah, I wasn't exactly planning on it either,” he says with a little laugh in his voice. “But I'm not bothered. I think we were heading there anyway, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, smiling.

“And we can still snog the rest of the evening,” Harry suggests, grinning.

Louis hums a contemplative sound.

“Yes, I suppose we could do that,” he says and taps his finger against his lips as though he's giving it great consideration.

Harry laughs quietly and grabs the hand, pulling it down to the other side of his own head, so Louis is bent over him once more and tilts his chin up in a clear invitation.

Louis smiles and leans down obligingly.

+++

Harry blinks bleary eyes open when his alarm rings on Tuesday. It takes him a few moments of rubbing at his eyes, stretching all his limbs and trying to convince himself to get up for him to realise that he didn't have one of the dreams last night. No sex, no dying, no nothing. So not only did Louis give him a great orgasm, he gave him a dreamless night as well. Harry is so going to drag Louis off to his room again tonight.

He doesn't actually feel that much more well-rested but it's so nice to not wonder why on Earth he keeps dreaming about this princess and her knight that the relief alone makes him feel more energised. When he sits down for breakfast opposite Jesy, she raises suspicious eyebrows at him and not-at-all-subtly checks him over for love bites, but Harry knows she won't find any.

“So, how's your mum?” she asks, rather pointedly.

“Apparently about to adopt another kitten, because all her human children have left the nest,” Harry says.

“Aw, I love cats,” Perrie coos.

“Just yesterday you said you loved dogs,” Jesy points out, amusement curling softly at her lips.

“Yeah, I do. I love cats too, though. All animals really, but cats and dogs are the cuddliest pets, aren't they? At least unless you, like, live on a farm and can have a lamb or something,” Perrie says.

Harry laughs.

“I've been to an alpaca farm once. They are super soft,” he says.

“Really? They look so cute. Like llamas but less mean,” she sighs.

“They were very cute,” Harry says.

“Aw,” she coos, and then sighs, swinging her legs back over the bench to get up. “Well, that's enough slacking off for now, I've still got shit to get done. See you lot in the cart shed later, yeah?”

“Alright, see you, Pez,” Jesy says, smiling up at her.

“See you later,” Harry says, while Perrie lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers at them before she turns and leaves.

“You know, before you say anything, let me just remind you that I witnessed all that,” Harry says.

Jesy laughs.

“Yeah, but we were genuinely just walking last night. Pretty sure there wasn't much walking involved in what you were doing last night,” she says.

Harry shrugs.

“A gentleman doesn't tell.”

“And since when are you one of those?” she teases.

“Birth, generally,” Harry says.

Jesy stops short for a moment.

“Wait, are you really?” she asks.

Harry lets her stew for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing.

“No! God, I'm not that posh, am I?” he asks.

Jesy shrugs. “You're definitely weird enough,” she says.

Harry beams at her and goes back to his breakfast then.

They spend the morning finishing up the attic room, like they'd said they would, and then decide to get right to the next-biggest room down in the former living quarters after lunch, just to get all the big stuff out of the way. Jesy sends a text about it into the whatsapp group that got formed when Harry wasn't looking, and so after lunch, after Jesy and Harry got to shake hands with the guy who had interviewed them over skype, Perrie and Niall come to find them in their new room.

Harry and Jesy have already claimed another table to put all of their stuff – most notably the docking station for their music – and are going through an armoire of lace things when Perrie and Niall show up.

“Are you trying those on?” Niall asks.

“I think they're tablecloths or something,” Harry says, holding one of them up. It's full of holes and definitely ruined, but it looks like it used to be pretty. It's just a rectangle of fabric though, so there's no way for anyone to put it on.

“Shame. Would've been amusing to have a little fashion show,” Niall says.

Harry wraps the fabric around his torso, striking a ridiculous pose just for the laughter it gets him, and then refolds it and puts it aside again.

It's tedious work, sorting through all these things, but it's made so much easier by the company. Even the more objectively exciting things Harry's done for other projects weren't all as fun as this, just because he gets to chat and laugh and sing with friends.

Louis comes down shortly before dinner and immediately slumps over Harry's back, pushing his face into Harry's shoulder and groaning loudly.

“Had fun then?” Harry asks.

Louis only whines in response.

“Got everything done at least?” Harry asks next.

Louis lifts his head and sighs.

“Yeah, we looked through everything. There are three things he wants to keep. Three. An entire week of not just throwing this stuff out and there are three things he's keeping,” Louis says.

Jesy laughs.

“Hey, at least you weren't the one sorting through everything. That attic was sweltering. There's no windows up there, mate. H and I had to go take actual breaks for breathing,” she says.

Louis nods solemnly.

“I believe you. It's unbearable up there,” he says. “Are you almost done for today? You seem to have gotten a lot done.”

“There's not as much shit piled on top of each other down here,” Harry says. “And most of it's completely ruined to be honest.”

Louis' gaze follows Harry's outstretched hand to the pile of ruined linen and lace and he nods.

“Yeah, no one's really expecting you to find much, to be honest. But apparently there are three things worth keeping in an entire attic, so maybe you'll find a fourth one here,” Louis says.

Harry chuckles and goes back to pulling silverware out of the drawer.

“This one definitely goes in the 'to be checked over' pile,” Louis says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry says with a snort.

Louis pinches him in the side.

“Hey, I'm being helpful.”

“You're hanging all over me, making this entire thing exceedingly more exhausting than it was before you came in,” Harry says.

“Would you like me to move?” Louis asks.

Harry hesitates a moment and then shakes his head.

“No, you can stay,” he says, as though he's doing Louis a grand favour. Probably it's not even all that comfortable for Louis either, but Harry likes the weight of him plastered to his back, and it's not so bad, really. They've only got another twenty minutes until they leave for the day, and Harry can definitely take it.

“Anyone up for a bit of a chat or something before dinner?” Perrie asks.

“I really need a shower first,” Jesy says.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry nods. It's not as hot down here as it was up in the attic, but Harry still feels like a thin layer of sweat and dust is coating his entire body and he's really looking forward to washing it off. Especially if he's going to be working up a light sweat again after dinner…

“You up for a chat after dinner?” Louis murmurs in Harry's ear, one hand coming to rest suggestively on Harry's hip.

Harry bites down on the grin that wants to take over his face.

“Something on your mind?” he asks, probably not at all successful in faking innocence.

“A thing or two,” Louis says, the hand on Harry's hip squeezing at the flesh there.

“Well, I've always got an ear for a friend,” Harry says.

“Wasn't really your ear I was after…” Louis says, pressing closer along Harry's back – or maybe it's just that Harry's fully aware of the intention behind it.

“No?”

“No.”

“Well, anything else is tit-for-tat, I'm afraid,” Harry says, grinning at Louis over his shoulder.

Louis grins back.

“That seems fair,” he says.

“As long as we're agreed,” Harry says, and turns back around, sorting through the last of the silverware. There are far too many identical forks. He's surprised it's in here though. It seems like the kind of thing that would belong up in the manor house, but maybe this isn't the _good_ silver or something along those lines. And isn't food supposed to taste a bit weird off silver cutlery? Maybe that's something to do with it as well.

Louis moves to stand next to Harry then, helping him sort through another pile of linens – honestly, how much can there still be left? – both of them choosing to listen in on the other three's conversation instead of starting up their own.

“My hands always feel so weird from being inside gloves all day,” Jesy says as they're walking back up to the house later.

“Imagine if you were a Victorian lady or something. That'd be your life!” Harry says.

“Probably I wouldn't be doing any hard work though,” Jesy says. “So there wouldn't be as much sweat and dust on my skin inside those gloves.”

Harry has to concede that point.

“Kinda feels like you've got a layer of that chalk stuff gymnasts use on, right?” he says.

“Yes! It's so weird,” Jesy agrees.

Before they can get too far into their discussion of gloves, Niall butts in with a story of something that happened in the kitchens today, and Harry's honestly glad to just listen to him and Perrie share some stories of their workday. He's honestly impressed that so many strange things can happen on a day to day basis. Though he supposes since most of them are to do with guests and their strange wishes, it makes sense, given that they come and go every day.

The shower before dinner is as refreshing as Harry hoped, and dinner itself is as relaxing and fun as it always is. They stay in their seats until the kitchen staff kicks them out so they can clean the place and finally be done with their day as well, and this time no one asks to go for a walk, so there's no need for excuses. Harry goes to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas and then, when a quick look up and down the corridor reveals a clear coast, pads over to Louis' room on his bare feet, feeling entirely ridiculous and more than just a little excited.

They don't make it to the bed that evening. Louis pulls him inside and Harry pulls him into a kiss, and they never end up moving anywhere but up against the door, Louis caged in by Harry's slightly bigger frame, shirts on the floor and underwear down by their ankles, with their hands on each other's bodies as they breathe the same air.

It's just as good as the night before.

+++

_“Will you come for a walk around the woods with me?” Harry asks, his knight looking up from his book and smiling warmly._

__

“I'll go anywhere you want with you,” he says.

Harry wants to chide him for saying things that can't be true, but he also wants to pretend they can be, so he doesn't. Instead he takes the offered arm and walks them out into the sunshine.

+++

Harry groans when he wakes up and remembers the dream, pushing his face into the pillow while he fumbles for the phone to shut off his alarm.

There goes his orgasm theory.

Down at breakfast, Louis seems to be in a similarly grumpy mood as Harry, and they share a commiserating look. They sit beside each other in silence, occasionally adding to the conversation that Jesy keeps going so as not to be rude, but neither of them particularly talkative. Eventually Jesy slips into silence as well, yawning into the back of her hand now and again. She doesn't seem to have had the best night's sleep either. Harry resolves to ask, and potentially tease her about it later.

When Jesy gets up to get rid of her plate and cup, kindly taking Louis' and Harry's with her, Louis leans over to Harry, one hand on his thigh.

“Nothing to do with you, love, just had a shit night's sleep, yeah?” he says.

Harry smiles at him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same for me.”

Louis smiles back.

“See you for lunch? Around one?”

“It's a date,” Harry says with a wink.

Louis laughs and pats Harry's thigh before he gets up.

Jesy's standing over by the exit when Harry looks around for her, so he hurries over to her, following her down the path to the cart shed.

That morning's a bit more subdued than the other ones, mostly due to neither of them having gotten all that much sleep. Jesy had stayed up past midnight chatting with Perrie, apparently, but Harry can't really muster up the energy to tease her too much about it. Poor Perrie's probably even more tired than either of them are.

Jesy goes to have a lie down over lunch and asks Harry to grab her something to eat for afterwards, so Harry and Louis actually do find themselves alone for lunch.

“Did you send Jesy away just so your date line would turn out to be true?” Louis asks, idly twirling spaghetti on his fork.

“I'm glad you think she wouldn't be sitting in a corner somewhere spying on us if I did that,” Harry says.

Louis nods like he concedes the point.

“I won't be around tonight,” he says then.

“Oh?” Harry asks.

“Got another meeting with the boss,” Louis says.

“Alright,” Harry says. It's not like he assumed he'd have Louis' undivided attention every night, after all.

“And I can't come down this afternoon either, got work to do.”

“That's okay,” Harry says, though he can't deny he's a little disappointed at that. He didn't really get to see Louis much at all today, and he does rather like his company, even when they have all of their clothes on, and keep their hands to themselves.

“But there's about half an hour left of your lunch hour, I reckon, if you're done with your food any time soon,” Louis says, eyes glittering wickedly as he looks up at Harry from under his lashes.

Harry looks down at his plate and then up at Louis, silently weighing his options. He can be a quick eater when he wants to, and he's already grabbed a couple of sandwiches for Jesy.

Seven minutes later he pushes Louis down onto his bed, kissing the laughter at Harry's continued eagerness off his lips.

+++

By Friday evening Harry and Jesy have only one room of the living quarters and the actual cart shed part of the cart shed left over, and Niall's suggesting another bay picnic for Saturday afternoon. Louis opts out, because he's got some errands to run, but the rest of them have a lovely time of it, chatting and laughing, and making each other shriek with splashes of the cold ocean water. When Louis texts that he's back and Harry excuses himself from the group, no one even teases him too much about it. The sun's already down anyway, and Harry knows they're gonna go back to the house in another hour or so. Perrie and Niall have to be up early, after all.

“Did you come straight up?” Louis asks, clearly surprised, when Harry knocks on his door a good forty minutes later.

“Was I not supposed to?” Harry asks back.

“No, no, it's fine. I just… I didn't mean you had to drop everything. Just wanted to say I was back,” Louis says.

Harry smiles and shrugs, and steps past Louis into the room.

“Well, I wanted to see you, so,” he says.

“I'm honoured,” Louis says, and almost sounds like he means it.

“So did your errands go well?” Harry asks, flopping down onto Louis' bed, legs dangling off over the side.

“Yeah, it's all good. How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. Drove the children to football practice, puttered around the garden a bit. Picked the children back up, laundry, cooking, a bit of cleaning...” Harry teases.

Louis rolls his eyes and sits down next to Harry.

“You know what I mean,” he says.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “It was fun. We had a good time. Got in a run this morning and phoned my mum.”

“Is she really adopting that kitten?” Louis asks.

Harry laughs. “I think she was joking about that. She didn't bring it up again, so I'm going to assume she was joking.”

Louis nods and hides a yawn behind his hand, before lying down on the bed himself. He stretches out along it, so Harry wiggles to make room for him and then toes off his shoes and socks to pull himself up fully as well.

“Hey, so, you're welcome to stay for a while, but I'm really knackered,” Louis says, eyes a little droopy.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says. “I don't mind.”

“Okay,” Louis says, shuffling a bit closer, and tilting his head up.

Harry smiles and kisses him obligingly; sweet, and not really looking to go anywhere else.

“I was thinking, since you'll be done with the shed soon and you're not needed anywhere else till Thursday, I might take you lot to see the Tristan Stone next Wednesday if you want? We could make trip of it. Niall and Perrie are off Wednesdays as well,” Louis says when they pull apart.

“Jesy and I get a day off?” Harry asks.

“Yes, I told you that two days ago, were you not paying attention?” Louis asks.

“Were you kissing me while you were telling me?”

“No! Jesy was there!” Louis laughs.

Harry hums.

“Don't remember it anyway. But, yeah, sounds fun. It'd be nice to get out for a bit,” he says.

“Okay. We'll ask the others about it tomorrow then, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says. “Hey, have you had dinner?”

“Yeah, I ate on the way. You?”

“We had a picnic, yeah,” Harry says.

Louis snorts a little laugh.

“So you've been eating all day?” he teases, grinning up at Harry and poking him in the stomach.

Harry nods.

“As you're supposed to do on a picnic.”

“Fair enough,” Louis says. “Ugh, sorry I'm so sleepy.”

“It's fine,” Harry says.

They lie quietly for a while, Harry gently tapping his fingers against Louis' chest.

“Hey,” Harry says then.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay the night?”

“Um. Yeah, okay,” Louis says. “It'll be a bit of a tight fit though.”

“I'm cuddly,” Harry says, pouting for good measure, just in case Louis' about to send him back to his room after all.

Instead, Louis laughs quietly.

“Yeah, alright. If I can't sleep I'm nicking your keys and sleeping in your room though,” he warns.

“Fair enough,” Harry says, digging said keys out of the pocket of his jeans and setting them on the nightstand. Then he wriggles out of his jeans and settles back down.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks.

“Settling in. You look like you're about to fall asleep,” Harry says.

“But it's only… I don't know. Too early, probably,” Louis protests.

“It's half nine, at least. We can sleep,” Harry says.

“Like granddads,” Louis grumbles, but wiggles out of his own pair of jeans.

“It'll be good practice,” Harry grins.

Louis shakes his head at him but smiles and leans in for a kiss once he's turned out the lights.

“Good night,” he mumbles.

“Sleep tight,” Harry says back, keeping his voice low, and then turns around so they fit together more easily, his back to Louis' chest.

He falls asleep more quickly than he expected to

+++

_“Are you sure about this?” her knight asks her. “This wine is meant for your husband.”_

_Harry looks down at the small glass bottle that's missing no more of its content but a drop, Harry knows._

_“It's meant for my happiness,” Harry says, and takes a swig from the bottle of wine. He's not sure if he's making it up, but it seems to taste sweeter than usual._

_Her knight takes the bottle from her, and takes a drink himself._  
.

+++

When Harry wakes, he blinks the dream from his eyes and allows himself a sigh. These dreams are apparently just not going to go away any time soon, then. There's no denying that they're weird, and freaking him out just a little, and if princess-Harry is with someone else, then this whole narrative is starting to sound exceedingly familiar, but. What's he supposed to do about it? Just not go to sleep? Start taking some sort of medication just because he keeps seeing strange images in his sleep? Not likely. They're still just dreams, after all. For all that it's unnerving, it's not anything else, so Harry's not going to worry too much about it.

Especially not when the waking world holds things such as Louis, who's curled up behind Harry and, from the sound of it, still asleep.

Harry turns around carefully, trying to jostle the bed as little as possible, so Louis won't wake. When he comes to face him, Louis' face is still slack, his hair messy and hanging into his face a little, so either he's still asleep or really good at faking it.

“Louis?” Harry whispers quietly, just to check.

There's no reply, which Harry takes as a definite answer this particular Sunday morning. He sits up carefully and then climbs over Louis' feet. The floor's cool against Harry's bare toes, but it's the middle of summer still, and it's not exactly uncomfortable. He's a bit sweaty from how close Louis and he had to stick to each other all night, but he honestly expected it to be worse. He's never had a night this restful sharing a single with another person.

He doesn't really want to leave yet, but he's too awake to just lie in bed and wait for Louis to wake up as well, so he deliberates for a moment and then slips his clothes on as quietly as possible. He grabs the key to his room, and then carefully slips out of Louis'.

No one's outside on the corridor, and the whole floor seems quiet. When Harry checks the time on his own phone – seven thirty – that pretty much explains why. The only people on their floor who have to be up early Saturday morning are Perrie and Niall, and their shifts have already started hours ago. So Harry grabs a clean set of clothes, a towel and a toothbrush and goes to have a quick shower. On the way back to his room he peers into Louis' to see if he's still asleep. He is, though now sprawled over the whole bed like he was only waiting for Harry to leave so he could spread out again.

With a grin on his face, Harry hangs the towel over the foot of the bed in his room, and then hurries downstairs to grab them some breakfast. Breakfast in bed would be nice, right? And it's not that much of a romantic gesture, right? If Harry also just really doesn't want to sit down in the dining hall and deal with other people yet? Even if that is mostly because he'd like to keep Louis' attention for himself for a while longer?

Ugh. Whatever.

Harry balances the tray with a tea pot and two cups, two plates of eggs and sausages, and cutlery in one hand, and a little basket with some toast in the other. He's not exactly moving quickly, but when he gets to Louis' room, the can is still emitting steam and he didn't spill anything. That's got to count for something.

He knocks, in case Louis has woken up, and then, when he doesn't hear anything, slowly pushes open the door.

Louis is lying on his bed, blanket pulled up to his waist, curious, but tired eyes watching the door.

“You know, it's common to wait until you're given permission to enter,” Louis drawls.

“I thought you'd still be asleep,” Harry says, and sets the basket of toast and the tray down on the nightstand.

“You brought breakfast?” Louis asks, pushing himself up a little.

Harry hums in confirmation. “Didn't really fancy sitting downstairs to eat today, and I thought we could have breakfast here.”

“Huh,” Louis says. “I thought you'd gone.”

“Only temporarily,” Harry says, sitting down on the bed when Louis pulls up his legs to sit against the headboard.

Louis smiles and accepts one of the plates, setting it down on his blanket covered lap.

“So it would seem, yeah,” he says.

Harry falters.

“Did you want me to leave?” Harry asks.

“No! I was… kind of disappointed you weren't here when I woke up, actually. Thought you'd gone for a morning run again or something,” Louis says.

“Oh,” Harry says with a smile. “No, just… breakfast.”

Louis snorts a little laugh. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Oh, shush,” Harry says and starts loading eggs on a piece of toast. “I didn't know what you liked, so I just got you the classics.”

“This is good,” Louis says, tearing his toast in half and loading it with eggs as well. “I like eggs on toast.”

“Me too! It's my favourite,” Harry says.

Louis grins and puts the second half of the toast on top of the eggs, taking a bite from his improvised sandwich.

“My sister taught me how to make it once when our mum was away over the weekend,” Harry explains between bites.

“How much older is your sister?” Louis asks, licking grease and salt off his fingers.

“Three years,” Harry says.

“Oh, so you're close. In age, I mean,” Louis says.

“Yeah. We get along fine too,” Harry says. “She was always my cool older sister when I was a kid, you know?”

Louis grins.

“Yeah, until you hit puberty, I bet,” he says.

Harry laughs and shrugs.

“Well, all my friends started having crushes on her, and it was really awkward for a while whenever I asked anyone over,” he says.

“Oh my god, please tell me they tried to hit on her,” Louis says.

Harry nods slowly. “It was really embarrassing. All of her friends thought I was adorable though, so I guess we were pretty evenly matched.”

“Did you ever hook up with any of them?” Louis asks, teasing glint in his eyes.

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Adorable in the pet-his-hair kind of way, not the secretly-snog-the-thirteen-year-old kind of way. My hair started going curly around that time.”

“It wasn't always like that?”

“No, it was pin straight when I was a kid. Gemma's is straight too. I don't really know where my curls come from, but I guess it's from my dad's side. I don't really know his family that well,” Harry says.

“He's not in touch with them?” Louis asks.

“Er, he is. Just… not that in touch with us. We see him occasionally, and it's all good and everything but. Divorced parents and all that, y'know,” Harry says.

Louis nods slowly.

“Yeah, I know. My parents split up two years ago, when I was your age, actually.”

“Oh. I was seven when they split, so. I've had plenty of time to get used to it and mum's boyfriend is great,” Harry says. “Are you… okay?”

Louis sighs and deliberates over his answer for a bit.

“Yeah, I guess. I've gotten over most of it. It was a mutual thing, but mostly they were mutually agreed that if my dad didn't want to stay with us anymore it'd be better for everyone if he left, y'know? Most 'mutual' break ups aren't all that mutual, I think,” Louis says.

Harry nods his head slowly. Having had a lot of time to get used his parents' split before he was really old enough to understand why they split has probably made understanding it a lot easier, he thinks.

“Well, technically, he was my step dad. I have his name, but my biological dad fucked off a few months after I was born,” Louis says.

“What a dick,” Harry says with a frown.

Louis nods. “Yeah, he is. He has a daughter about the age of my oldest little sister and I vaguely know her, but we only email, like, like three times a year for birthdays and christmas. Really, I only started doing it cause I felt sorry for her when we met as kids but. I think we're probably not gonna stay in touch once she gets old enough to lose interest in her half-brother.”

Harry stares at him with slightly wider eyes.

“That got very personal very quickly,” he says dryly, trying to lift the mood.

Louis laughs a startled laugh and then spears his sausage, taking a bite from it.

“It really did,” he says through it.

Harry half wants to scold him for it, but just goes back to loading another slice of toast with scrambled eggs instead.

“So, how many little sisters do you have?” he asks.

“Four,” Louis says. “The oldest one's six years younger then me, the middle one eight years, and the youngest are twins and they're eleven years younger than me.”

“So your teenage years were spent babysitting?” Harry guesses.

Louis laughs.

“A lot less than you'd think, considering our parents were constantly working. But, yeah, I've changed my fair share of diapers. Babies cannot scare me,” he says.

“That's cool though. I mean, I imagine it also sucked, but it's cool that you know a lot about that stuff. Like, experience wise. I've never really had to deal with a baby at all? I've seen baby cousins and maybe held them for a bit, but whenever I have my own kid it's gonna be headfirst into the unknown for me” Harry says.

Louis nods along.

“Yeah, that's true. I am glad for that. Most things are pretty obvious once you know them, but it's still pretty scary when you encounter them for the first time,” he says.

“Yeah, exactly. Unless, I guess, you don't want kids, then you've got a lot of useless knowledge,” Harry says.

Louis laughs again.

“No, I want kids. Not any time soon, or anything, but I do want them at some point. I love kids, weirdly enough. You'd think a brood of younger sisters would've put me off them.”

“My sister does always tell me the thought of having to deal with one of me permanently is the best contraceptive she knows,” Harry says.

“Surely she's joking,” Louis says through another laugh.

Harry grins.

“Mostly, yeah,” he says. “But she's not so much for kids. She doesn't really think about it, at least. She's pretty focused on her degree right now.”

“What course is she taking?”

“Microbiology,” Harry says. “She's the smart one.”

“Does that make you the pretty one?”

“No, that's also her,” Harry says.

“She's prettier than you? Christ, what kind of gene pool do you have?” Louis teases, nudging Harry with his knee.

Harry grins and wriggles his phone out of his pocket, pulling up a photo of his mum, sister, and him at a barbecue they had a few weeks ago. Gemma's on his lap, and Mum's standing behind them, her hands on the back of Harry's chair. They all have eerily similar smiles in it, that's primarily why Harry likes it.

“Wow,” Louis says, taking the phone gingerly.

“Your friends didn't have crushes on your mum?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Harry groans and rolls his eyes.

“They did,” he says, reaching out to take his phone back.

Louis laughs.

“I can see why. You may have your dad's family's hair, but everything else is clearly your mum,” he says.

“I'm not even going to think about what that implies about your feelings about my mum,” Harry says and resolutely goes back to his breakfast.

Louis grins, and then grabs for his own phone on the nightstand.

“Here, that's my family,” he says, offering the phone to Harry.

There's a young woman with four girls, one of the youngest two on her arms, the other one on the oldest girls'. The middle one stands front and center, toothy grin bright.

“They're adorable,” Harry says.

“That's because they're standing still and you can't hear them,” Louis says, though it sounds unspeakably fond. He takes the phone back and sets it back down on the nightstand.

“So, if your sister's the smart one, what are you going to do at uni in London?” Louis asks.

“Um, singing and songwriting,” Harry says, trying to sound more solid than he feels.

Louis' eyes go wide. “You want to be a popstar then?”

Harry shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn't mind, I think? I just want to be good though. I like writing songs, though most of the ones I've done are just angsty, sappy teenage shit.”

“Don't put yourself down. You got in, so there's gotta be something there,” Louis says.

Harry smiles. “Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself. I didn't really expect to get in, I think, but I'm really excited that I did. Even if I never get to sing myself, or never get popular or anything, I still want to write songs.”

“And some songwriters make a killing,” Louis offers.

Harry nods.

“Yeah. It's only when both things fail that I'm gonna be in deep shit,” he says.

Louis laughs.

“You'll be fine. I've heard you sing. You're quite good,” he says.

“Not as good as Jesy and Perrie,” Harry says.

“Maybe, but I'm not entirely convinced there's no magic at play there; I mean, should they be able to just sing together like that without even trying?”

“I think that's what happens when you're just really good,” Harry says.

Louis waves him off.

“No, it's gotta be magic. Way more likely,” he says.

Harry grins and sets his empty plate aside.

“I'm not, like, jealous or insecure because of it or anything,” he says. “I was never going to be Ed Sheeran or anything like that. I just want to write songs and I'd love to perform them.”

“Pretty sure that's an actual thing Ed Sheeran has said at some point,” Louis points out, making Harry laugh.

“You know what I meant though,” he says.

Louis nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“So what about you?” Harry asks, setting his empty plate onto the nightstand. Louis copies him.

“Well, I do architecture, and I actually want to specialise in historical buildings,” Louis says. “Heritage stuff and such.”

“Really? That's cool,” Harry says.

“Yeah, I'm pretty into it, actually,” Louis says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I had a hard time in school and I picked architecture out of a vague inclination, which is not at all how you should go about your life, probably, but it's worked out pretty well for me. I'm even pretty good at maths now.”

“Wow,” Harry says. “You've changed, mate.”

Louis snorts a laugh. “And it took a lot of effort, actually.”

“It generally does, when it's important,” Harry says, making Louis roll his eyes.

“That was very wise, Master Harold.”

“It was, wasn't it,” Harry grins.

Louis nods and offers the teapot to Harry and, at the shake of his head, pours himself the last of the tea.

“So, shall we just whatsapp about our Wednesday plan?” he suggests.

“Yeah, sounds good. We'll see Perrie and Niall in the afternoon as well, probably. We can talk details then,” Harry says.

“That works,” Louis says, shifting the cup of tea to his other hand so he can send out a text to their whatsapp group.

They do see the other three later, lounging about Jesy's room playing card games for hours until dinner, and then for a little while longer. Louis follows Harry into his room afterward for a good night kiss, but they go to sleep in their own beds that night.

Monday and Tuesday pass quickly, each of them busy with their own jobs, so Harry doesn't see much of Louis other than at breakfast and after dinner, but Niall and Perrie still come to hang out at the cart shed whenever their shifts are over. Jesy and he find an enormous tapestry that depicts what they think is the actual legend of Tristan and Isolde, and it almost feels like all the sorting through useless crap was worth it just for this. It would've been a shame if it had been thrown out, Harry thinks. It's intricate and clearly well-made, has stood up to the test of time remarkably well. Louis grinned at them when they showed him, clearly pleased they found something like that as well.

Wednesday morning sees them all pile into Louis' car, or the rental he was provided with for the summer anyway, all in varying states of sleep-rumpled.

“Why are we doing this so early, again?” Jesy asks through a yawn, leaning her head on Perrie's shoulder.

“It's after nine,” Harry points out.

“It's before eleven,” Jesy complains.

“You can just sleep more on the drive,” Niall pipes up from Perrie's other side. When Harry catches his eyes over the rear view mirror, he rolls his eyes, but grins.

“I'm gonna,” Jesy mumbles, shifting so a bit of hair falls down into her face. Perrie smiles down at her and pats her head, fondly combing her fingers through Jesy's hair a bit.

“Alright. Everyone strapped in?” Louis asks and receives a vague chorus of mumbled replies.

“Well, then. Off we go,” he says, and pulls out of the car park.

Jesy, true to her word, falls asleep in the first five minutes, even though everyone else is still chattering away about what they want to do with their whole day. The Tristan Stone isn't really all that much to look at after all. It's just a stone that supposedly marks a grave of a guy who's supposedly the inspiration behind the Tristan legend. Which in turn is supposed to have influenced the Arthur/Guenivere/Lancelot legend. Also, according to Louis' googling last night, it's supposed to get moved soon, since there are plans for a housing project where it's stood now.

The Stone's not far from the town of Fowey though, and they're apparently used to tourism there, so there should be plenty to do. Places to eat, at least. Places to shop too, probably. And it's on a river with a historical harbour and that's always fun.

Perrie falls back asleep soon as well, when Niall starts talking about the nearby golf courses he hasn't been able to visit yet since they bus schedule never worked out well with his time off. Louis offers the use of his car, provided he doesn't need it himself, and that Niall will be extra careful with it, but Niall, it turns out, doesn't have his license yet.

“I can drive you,” Harry says.

“Really?” Niall and Louis both ask, the former with hope in his voice, the latter with a distinct note of disbelief.

“I'm nineteen,” Harry says. “I've had my license for over a year. I'm a good driver.”

Louis hums dubiously.

“Look, I'll drive us back tonight, and you can decide if you trust me to drive on my then, how about it?” Harry suggests.

“Oh, please, Louis,” Niall says from the back. There's no way Louis is going to say no to those baby blues, Harry knows it.

“Sure, alright. That's a good idea, actually,” Louis says.

Harry beams, pleased with himself, and Niall whoops in the backseat, snapping his mouth shut when Jesy makes a vague grumbling sound.

“Do you want to come along on the course as well?” Niall asks, far more quietly.

“Yeah, I said I would, didn't I?” Harry says, looking back at him over the rear view mirror.

“Nice. It'll be fun! I know everyone thinks golf is only for boring, rich dudes, but it's quite nice, actually,” Niall says.

“The courses always look pretty, so it'll be a nice walk, at the very least,” Harry says. “But I believe you.”

Niall smiles, pleased.

“You're welcome to come too, Louis,” he says then.

Louis laughs.

“Thanks, but I don't really think it's my kind of thing,” he says. “I prefer a good game of footie.”

“Football's good,” Niall agrees. “I'm just really bad at it.”

“So you're good at golf?” Harry asks.

Niall shrugs, but he's still smiling.

“Better than football at least. And I've got a bit of a bum knee, so I'm not supposed to do things like footie too much,” he explains.

“How did that happen?” Harry asks.

Niall leans back against the seat and settles in to tell what seems to be a long story. So over the course of the next hour, Harry learns about Niall's various injuries – there have been plenty – and why, if he's doing his culinary course in Dublin, he's taking summer jobs in Cornwall. (Apparently, Ireland and Cornwall are historically linked, and, actually, Isolde was an Irish princess before she came and married a Cornish king.)  
He's just about done with a lengthy exposition on Irish culture and which parts of it he misses most, opening an invitation to all of them to come visit him at home if they can, when Louis pulls off the road into a small side-of-the-road car park. It's just a cleared space with gravel on the ground, really.

“Are we there?” Niall asks, looking surprised.

“We've been driving for almost an hour!” Harry laughs.

“Have we?” Niall asks, and smiles as he unbuckles his seat belt. “Seemed less.”

Harry and Louis share an amused look, and then get out of the car as well.

“So, who's gonna wake the girls?” Harry asks.

“I'll wake Perrie, she'll wake Jesy,” Niall says, and climbs back into the car, shaking Perrie's shoulder carefully.

Harry can see her lift her head from its perch on top of Jesy's groggily and then she turns and shakes Jesy awake.

“They'll be out in a second,” Niall says, rejoining Harry and Louis outside.

It's an overcast day today, and Harry crosses his arms against the slightly chilly breeze.

“Should've worn something more substantial,” Louis says, teasingly pulling at the sleeve of Harry's t-shirt. It's linen, and just the slightest bit sheer.

“I've got a shirt in the car,” Harry says. “Didn't think I'd need it.”

“Might want to grab it,” Louis suggests.

Harry actually still doesn't feel like he'll need it, but Louis is looking at him with a touch of concern, so Harry turns back to grab it. Jesy hangs off Perrie's arm as she stumbles out of the car and over to where Louis and Niall are waiting for them, and Harry winks at her when their eyes catch. Jesy glares at him.

“Good morning,” Louis says with a wide grin as soon as they've reached him and Niall. Jesy glares at him too, but it only makes Louis laugh.

Niall's already got his phone out.

“Okay, so, apparently there's a hundred different versions of the story of Tristan and Isolde, but she's an Irish princess, and he's a Cornish knight who's a favourite of his king and father, Mark,” he says. “And then Tristan and Isolde meet when Tristan's out questing, and he gets hurt, and she heals him, and they fall in love. He has to go back to his king, and when he tells Mark about Isolde, Mark's like 'that sounds like a good wife' and sends Tristan to ask her to marry Mark. I don't really get why she agrees, if she's into Tristan, but it's probably that whole princess deal.”

“Probably,” Louis says with a snort of laughter.

They've wandered the little path over to the actual stone now, taking time to look up at it, trying to find the much weathered inscription. Not that any of them read Latin.

“And then there's a love potion that she's supposed to give to Mark so she doesn't have to live with a loveless marriage – sounds a bit extreme – but she gives it to Tristan instead. And so they're desperately in love and have an affair behind the king's back,” Niall goes on.

“That's definitely going to end well,” Jesy says, looking up at the stone with her arms crossed, like it's personally offended her in some way.

“Yep. The king finds out and banishes Tristan and he marries another Isolde and when he gets ill his wife makes him think actual Isolde won't come to help, and he dies. And then Isolde arrives and also dies,” Niall says, looking up from his phone.

“These legends are always so cheerful,” Jesy drawls, making them all laugh.

“Love potion or not, fucking the king's wife is probably a bad idea,” Louis says.

“But they were so in love, and they only couldn't marry cause Tristan couldn't disobey his king and also because he's a knight, probably,” Perrie says.

Louis shrugs. “Still cheating.”

Harry sort of wants to grab his hand. Maybe this is something to do with Louis' parents' separation. Or maybe he just feels really strongly about cheating. Either way, Harry feels almost compelled to offer some support, but at the same time it seems a little presumptuous. A step too far, maybe, though they've not really talked about what they want from this other than “not boyfriends” and “just a summer romance”. Harry's pretty sure “not boyfriends” still means they're exclusive, but he's not sure if that's just for a lack of options. And it still makes just grabbing Louis' hand to offer emotional support seem a little too coupley. So Harry bumps his shoulder instead and gives him a wide grin.

Louis rolls his eyes, but he can't quite tamp down on his smile.

“Either way, this is… a very boring stone,” Jesy says.

Niall laughs.

“She's right though,” Harry says. “It's a bit disappointing, isn't it?”

“I guess it's not a very well known thing,” Louis says.

They all stand around the stone for a while longer until Perrie says, “So, shall we just go to Fowey and walk around until we get hungry enough for lunch?”

“Yeah, let's,” Jesy agrees, and since neither Niall, Louis nor Harry really fancy standing around looking at a stone for any more substantial amounts of time, they all make their way back to the car.

With Jesy and Perrie awake now as well, the ride over to Fowey is a lot more rambunctious than the drive earlier this morning, and by the time they get out of the car again, Harry feels like he's permanently grinning. Niall's cheeks are red from laughing.

Fowey is actually more fun than Harry expected. They're clearly a common tourist attraction, lots of little shops selling ridiculous knickknacks no one local would ever buy. Harry peruses almost all of them and delightedly buys a little replica of the Tristan Stone to give to Jesy at lunch, which they decide to have in one of the numerous pubs.

“You're not funny Styles,” she says, sat across from him.

“I'm hilarious,” Harry protests. “I just wanted to give you something to remember me by.”

“Sure you did,” she says with a sigh, but drops the stone into her purse anyway. Harry's not going to point it out, but one of the corners of her mouth looks like it's about to give in to a smile. Harry's charming. Everyone says so.

“So, does anyone want to go see a Georgian harbour?” Louis asks once they're all done with lunch, stood outside the pub trying to decide what to do with the rest of the day.

“Er,” Perrie says, eyes flicking to Jesy in vague disinterest, clearly trying to come up with a polite way to say no.

Niall has no such qualms.

“Not really, mate,” he says with a shrug.

“Thought so,” Louis says with a smile.

“I'll come,” Harry says.

“Really? You don't have to,” Louis says.

“No, I don't mind it. I like history,” Harry says.

Louis studies him for a moment, but then seems to decide that Harry means it, and smiles at him.

“Alright, so how about Harry and I take the car to go see it, and we all meet up back at where the car's parked now in about four hours?”

“Sounds good,” Niall says, Jesy and Perrie nodding their agreement.

“Alright. Have a good afternoon then,” Louis says.

“You two as well,” Jesy says with a grin that makes it clear what she thinks of the situation.

“Thank you, Jessica, we will,” Harry says.

Jesy laughs at his back when he turns to leave, clearly not at all bothered.

“You really didn't have to come, just because we're...” Louis says once they've walked in silence for a bit, trailing off at the end.

Harry smiles to himself, somehow glad Louis doesn't have the words to simply define what exactly it is they're doing either.

“I wasn't lying. I do like history. I'm not very good at it, but I like looking at old things,” Harry says.

“Okay,” Louis says. “Still. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“I like that as well, so. Win-win for me,” Harry replies.

Louis grins, and then grips Harry's hand.

“That okay?” he asks.

Harry twists his hand a little, fitting their fingers together better and smiles.

“Yeah, that's okay,” he says.

They don't talk much on the way back to the car, or the drive over to Charlestown, but once they make it down to the harbour and its lock gates, Louis starts regaling Harry with all sorts of tales and historical facts. Half of those Harry is entirely convinced are utter bullshit, but the other half are so convincing in between all the obvious nonsense, that he really can't say whether Louis has learned any of this in his architecture classes and history electives.

The shipwreck centre especially is a lot cooler than either of them expected. The replicas are all equally fascinating as all the stuff from actual shipwrecks, and once they get to the Titanic part of it they dissolve into trying to out-quote the movie to each other, re-enacting and changing the scenes. The staff must be so annoyed by people doing that, Harry thinks, but that doesn't make it any less fun for them. And Louis did promise to draw him like one of his French girls, so.

In the end, after deciding to grab some sandwiches for dinner, they're half an hour late to pick up the other three, who luckily seem only a little peeved at having had to wait for them for thirty minutes. At least the rain holds off until they're on the road, Harry, as per the agreement, driving them back. Twenty minutes into the drive, Harry can tell Louis finally relaxes, obviously satisfied with Harry's driving skills. Louis smiles over at him, and Harry's pretty sure he's going to be driving Niall to golf some time soon.

“Alright, who's coming to dinner?” Niall asks when they all get out of the car back at Caerhays House.

“Me,” Perrie, and Jesy say at the same time.

“I'm bloody starving,” Perrie adds.

“Shouldn't've had just that little salad for lunch,” Jesy points out.

“It was so good though,” Perrie says. “Just not very filling, in the long run.”

“We've eaten, and I've actually got work to do,” Louis says, only very slightly angling his body closer to Harry's.

Harry's not sure whether Louis means it or wants him to make an excuse as well, but before he can even say anything, Jesy laughs at him.

“Yeah, yeah, H, we know. You're work,” she says, making Louis splutter and Harry laugh.

“I'm a delight, actually,” Harry corrects her.

They all laugh, but none of them contradict him. Harry's going to take that as implied agreement. Louis at least bumps his shoulder against Harry's, which means his agreement is heavily implied, Harry figures.

They say goodnight at the foot of the stairs, and then Louis puts his hand low on Harry's back and gently pushes him up the stairs, past Harry's room, and into his own.

“So, are you really going to draw me?” Harry teases, turning around in Louis' hands when he pulls at him and easily answering his kiss.

“I'm shit at drawing, but I'd love it if you got naked,” Louis mumbles into his mouth and kisses him again.

It seems like a decent enough plan to Harry, and he quickly slips out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor carelessly.

Louis' hands stroke up and down his arms firmly, fingers feeling out the contours of the muscles Harry has built up over the last year. Turns out regular physical work and exercise actually do have an effect on someone's physique.

Harry in turn pulls Louis' jumper and t-shirt over Louis' head, and steps back to take over when Louis starts to fumble with Harry's zipper. It's the one that always gets stuck when you don't pull it down exactly the right way. If Harry didn't like the way his legs look in these jeans so much he'd have thrown them out a while ago.

Louis gets out of his clothes a little quicker than Harry does, turning to lock the door while Harry leans down to pull off his boots, socks, and finally the pair of jeans. He comes back to kiss Harry immediately, walking him backwards towards the bed, and pushing him down onto it gently.

“I want to ride you,” he mumbles, throwing a leg over Harry's hips when he's let himself be pushed flat onto his back, straddling Harry's lap as if in illustration. “That okay?”

“Yeah, that's-- that's okay. Great,” Harry says, staring up at Louis with eyes that are probably blown wide with lust.

“Okay. Good,” Louis says, and leans down to kiss Harry again.

Harry lets himself fall into the kiss, his hands feeling out the curve of Louis' spine and the swell of his arse. This is about three steps further than he'd assumed they'd go at this point, but he's not about to complain. As long as they're both having fun, Harry figures there's no such thing as going “too fast”. He's almost halfway through his stay here anyway, and while he'd be happy never to go this far with Louis, because getting off with him in any way is great, Harry likes sex. He'd be lying if he claimed he hadn't thought about it with Louis now and then.

“Have you done this before?” Louis asks, leaning over to rummage in his nightstand, eyes locked with Harry's.

Harry nods with a smile.

“Yeah, I have. I know what I'm doing,” he says.

“Oh, do you?” Louis teases, but Harry figures he knows what Harry meant, and, well. According to popular feedback, Harry does know what he's doing.

“You'll just have to direct me, if I don't,” Harry says easily, and takes hold of the tube of lube in Louis' hands.

“Is it alright if I do this?” he asks.

Louis licks his lips and nods.

“Knock yourself out,” he says, and, when Harry pats his chest, scoots forward a little so Harry can reach his arse more easily.

Louis leans over a bit again, putting his weight on his hands, and Harry tilts his head up for another kiss, but Louis only pecks his lips and then goes back to simply looking at Harry's face.

“Are you okay? Have you done this before?” Harry asks, suddenly wondering.

Louis smiles and nods.

“Yeah, I'm good. I just like your face,” he says.

Harry cranes his neck and pecks Louis on the lips again and then touches his slicked up fingers to the puckered skin of Louis' rim.

Louis waggles his eyebrows as if in challenge, and Harry can't help the quiet chuckle. He doesn't always laugh during sex, and he doesn't always miss it when he doesn't, but he should have known anything with Louis would involve laughter, probably.

The first finger barely gets any reaction from Louis, but the second makes him bite his lip and rock his hips just slightly. When Harry's other hand pulls him down at the chin, he kisses Harry obligingly, and huffs a grunt against his lips when Harry takes that moment to push in with a third finger as well.

“How many do you want?” Harry asks quietly.

“How many do I need?” Louis asks back, lifting one hand to reach down between their bodies to grab at Harry's dick.

Harry can't help the way his hips twitch a little at the touch, grinning back when it makes Louis' eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Give me another,” Louis says finally, letting go of Harry's cock again and leaning down to place another quick peck on Harry's mouth. “I like your fingers.”

This time it's Harry who waggles his eyebrows ridiculously, and Louis twists one of his nipples in retaliation, making Harry hiss both in pain and not-just-pain. Louis licks his lips at the reaction, and then the tips of his fingers, bringing them between them to tease at one of the nubs on Harry's chest, just as Harry's pushing in with a fourth finger as well. He makes a tiny noise at the intrusion this time, breath coming in heavier puffs, his lips shiny with spit because he keeps licking them.

“You'll tell me if it's too much?” Harry says, fucking Louis with his fingers slowly, trying to make the slide as smooth as possible.

“Don't get cocky,” Louis says with a grin, but nods. His hand mostly just rests on Harry's chest now, putting some of his weight there as he rolls his hips back against Harry's fingers for a few moments.

“Okay, okay, done. I'm done. Get on with it,” Louis says, pulling his hips up so Harry's fingers slip out of him. Harry wipes them off on his own thigh, but still struggles a little with the condom wrapper, fingers just a little too slippery to get a good enough grip to open it.

Louis takes it from him and opens it quickly, scooting back down to roll it onto Harry's cock himself. He gives him a few strokes just to be a little shit, if the smile on his face is anything to go by, and then a few more to spread some more lube on it. Harry tries his best to keep still when Louis shuffles up again, reaching behind himself to line up Harry's cock and starts to work it inside. The first moment is somehow always a surprise, and Harry gasps a little, eyes still locked with Louis'. Louis doesn't even mock him for it, teeth set into his own bottom lip and a lock of concentration keeping his features tense. Harry keeps watching him, stroking his hands up and down Louis' thighs, the fine hairs there tickling him a little.

Louis works himself down Harry's cock bit by bit, hitching his hips back up again every now and then. He slides up and down a few times once he's got all of Harry inside, making sure he's comfortable, before he sinks down and stays there, the tension fading from his face for a moment.

“I meant to ask,” he says, teasing at the two smaller nubs slightly below Harry's nipples, “what are these?”

Harry grins.

“Nipples,” he says. “I have four.”

“So, what, you ate your twin in the womb and they left you their nipples?” Louis jokes, flicking them as though to see whether they'll get him the same response the regular sized ones do. They don't, but that doesn't mean that Harry doesn't feel it at all.

“I guess,” Harry says, his own hands teasing at Louis' knees, mostly for something to do.

“Shame. I've always wanted to do twins,” Louis says.

Harry laughs.

“Really?” he asks. He can't quite imagine having a twin, and he doesn't want to imagine sharing anything sexual with Gemma, but the thought of two of him and one of Louis vaguely does excite him in the back of his mind.

“No,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. “I have twin sisters, it really just sounds so wrong, actually.”

“Stick to dirty talk you really mean, then, maybe,” Harry suggests, hands stroking up Louis' thighs.

Louis grins down at him and rolls his hips.

“You feel really good inside me,” he says, and just like that Harry forgets every thought of sisters.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, voice a little breathy as he starts moving again.

It takes them a surprisingly short time to work out a rhythm that they both like, to find the way they have to swivel together for Harry's dick to brush Louis' prostate. It makes Louis' eyes fall shut, and the sweetest little noises fall from his lips, so Harry tries to do it as much as he can, staring up at him with eyes that are maybe a little too wide. Louis makes such a pretty picture, Harry just finds it hard to look away from him.

When Louis' eyes do flutter open briefly, he looks down at Harry with that familiar warm smile.

“Fuck me,” Harry breathes, not quite sure if it's a request or just an expression of all the bright feelings glowing in his belly, but it makes Louis grin and collapse forward onto his forearms, nose brushing Harry's.

“Thought I already was,” Louis says, breathy and panting a little.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are,” Harry pants back, grabbing hold of Louis's hips to pull him even further into the rutting motion of his hips.

“Can-- can you--?” Louis asks, and he doesn't have to finish for Harry to know to reach between their bodies for his cock.

“Good?” Harry asks, one hand jerking at Louis' cock, fingers of the other one gently prodding at where his dick pushes in and out of Louis' body. He can feel Louis nod next to his face, breathing something that might be a “yeah” or might just be a quiet moan.

It is good.

Harry can feel the pressure mount low in his belly, heat collecting and making his toes curl against the inevitable rush of coming. It hasn't been that long, Harry doesn't think, but he can feel sweat bead at his temples, and his cheeks flush, his heart beat strongly, and his breath puff out of him in little moans. If he could, he'd keep it going for hours, but as it is…

“I'm gonna...” Louis breathes, pressing his chest closer to Harry's, trapping his arm between them.

“Me too, yeah,” Harry says, hips hitching up in uncontrolled little bursts every now and then. He doesn't want it to end yet, but he can already tell it's going to be a good one.

Louis comes first, spilling between their bellies and pushing his face and moan into the pillow.

Harry pulls his hand out from between their bodies and grabs hold of Louis' arse with both hands, holding on to him as he pumps his hips up a few more times before he buries his whine into Louis' neck, feeling his orgasm overwhelm his entire body, making him feel like every part of him from the tips of his toes to the point of his chin is vibrating.

They lie together for a few moments after, trying to catch their breath, before Louis gingerly shifts to let Harry's softening cock slip out of him again.

“Fuck, that was good,” Louis mumbles into Harry's shoulder as he flops down half on top, half next to him, head pillowed on Harry's shoulder, one arm and leg slung over him.

Harry doesn't answer, just turns to pull Louis into a deep, wet kiss. Later, they put their clothes back on and go for innocuous individual showers. Even later, Harry lets Louis curl around his back again to fall asleep, but for now, there's only hot, slightly sweaty skin and languid kisses as they let their heartbeats slow back down.

+++

_Harry's only been here once before and if you had asked him to describe the layout of the castle only a week ago he wouldn't have been able to, but as soon as the carriage stops he's flying through the corridors like he knows exactly where he's going._

_“My lady!” someone calls after him, and he can hear footsteps that are trying to catch up, but they're in armor and he's only in a dress. The travelling cloak is heavy, but not as heavy as leather and chainmail, so he keeps running, throwing himself along the stone corridors until he reaches his lover's chambers at last. He pushes the heavy door open like it's nothing, but barely makes it into the room before his strength leaves him and he collapses to the floor. A piercing cry echoes off the walls, and it takes him a moment to realise it was him who made it._

_There's no need for him to approach the bed, to see his lover's pale skin, and feel the coldness of it. The taste of death hangs in the air and Harry knows he is too late without being told. His knight is gone forever, and Harry is left alone in the world._

_“My lady,” someone says again, attempting to pull him up and into some semblance of composure, but he doesn't care. Let them all know for certain at last. Let them execute him. His love is dead, and he can find no reason to pretend it doesn't shatter his world in one clean blow._

+++

Harry wakes in a cold sweat and it takes him a moment to realise it's because Louis smacked him with one of his limbs, not because of the nightmare. Louis's jerking as though caught in the middle of a terrible nightmare, and gasps awake only seconds after Harry. Even though Harry's own heart beat is still frantic, he wriggles around and grabs hold of whatever part of Louis he can reach, trying to offer some sort of comfort, or at least a connection.

“Sh, it's alright. You're here, you're safe. I'm here, it's okay,” he mutters.

Louis takes a shuddery breath, eyes shining wet in the darkness and then calms on a forcefully slow exhale.

“That was a fucked up dream,” he says, voice croaky with sleep or something else, Harry's not sure.

“It's okay,” Harry repeats, and when Louis pushes at him, he turns around again.

Louis pulls them closer together than before, pressing his face in between Harry's shoulder blades, but Harry doesn't mind. Welcomes it, actually. His dream's not gone from his mind yet either, and if he thought almost seeing his lover die was bad, feeling his death fill that entire room leaves Harry feeling genuinely bereft and glad there's no such thing as magic in real life. He swallows against the tightness in his throat, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes.

They both lie awake for a while, neither of them speaking. Harry doesn't know which one of them falls back asleep first, but he wakes for the second time with Louis still wound around him tightly. They dress in silence, and brush their teeth side by side, though equally quietly. It's only when they're about to go down to breakfast that Harry grabs hold of Louis' wrist, holding him at the top of the stairs for a moment.

Before Louis can ask what's wrong, Harry leans in and gives Louis a short, gentle kiss. Louis kisses him back, and when Harry pulls away, he sighs and his shoulders sag.

Harry smiles at him. Louis smiles back.

Jesy grins at them when they drop down at the table opposite her.

“Rough night?” she asks.

“I dreamed someone was dying,” Harry says.

“I dreamed I was dying,” Louis says.

Jesy stares at them with wide eyes.

“Whatever you two had for dinner, I'm glad I waited till we got back,” she says.

Harry tries to laugh, but it mostly turns out a humourless huff of air.

“And sorry about having to spoil your breakfast, but we've got to be outside in the gardens in about fifteen, so you should hurry up,” Jesy adds, to Harry.

Harry nods, and picks up his pace a bit.

“Text me when you go to lunch?” Louis asks quietly, looking up at Harry when he's getting up to put away his dishes and leave.

“Yeah, sure. See you then,” Harry says before turning to follow Jesy over to the cart of dirty dishes and then out the door.

“I'm kinda glad we're gonna be outside today,” he says as they're walking behind the house to where they're supposed to meet the gardeners.

“Me too. Though even just leaving that attic was amazing,” Jesy agrees.

Harry nods vehemently, trying to put that dream behind himself and just focus on the work that needs to be done. It was only a dream. A disturbing dream, but still a dream. This is his actual life, and his actual life has sunshine, and flowers, and friends, and a really pretty boy who wants to shag him, so. Definitely something Harry doesn't want to miss out on because of a dream.

The head gardener hands them each a pair of gloves and shovels and has them following around one of the actual gardeners, helping her dig out rose bushes that need to be replanted elsewhere. Harry has never had a particular opinion about elaborate rose gardens one way or another, but by the time they're told they can break for lunch, he starts thinking they can't possibly be worth all this trouble. He also gains a new appreciation for protective hedges of roses growing around enchanted fairytale castles, because his arms are covered in tiny, itchy, burning scratches. He shoots Louis a text and then tells Jesy to go ahead without him, as he's going to grab a light shirt for the afternoon. Jesy, her arms already covered in one of her flannels, gives him a thumbs-up and mercifully refrains from commenting.

“What on Earth happened to you?” Niall asks once Harry joins Jesy, Louis and him for lunch.

“Did you know that when they say 'protective hedge of roses', they mean it?” Harry asks back, and takes a sullen drink from his water glass.

Louis pulls an expression halfway between amusement and pity and pats Harry on the shoulder gently, while Niall only laughs. Harry somehow feels like these sort of things don't happen to Niall. He always seems to be prepared.

“So you're moving rose bushes?” Louis asks after a brief silence, and Jesy starts to explain what it is they're doing in the gardens. Harry should probably have things to add, but he wasn't really paying too much attention to what the head gardener was saying this morning, so he's quite glad for her play-by-play as well. It's always good to know what it is you're actually doing.

Louis has to leave before they do, and gives Harry another pat on the shoulder in parting, vanishing back up the stairs. Harry and Jesy for their part decide to spend the rest of their lunch break outside, lying in the freshly mown grass with their balled up shirts for pillows under their head, trying to spot shapes in the clouds. (It's not easy. There are hardly any clouds that look like anything other than clouds, so mostly they just complain about the non-cooperative clouds.) Niall joins them, but falls asleep about five minutes in.

The afternoon passes with way fewer scratches at least, but now that Harry and Jesy are working with other people, it's a bit awkward for Niall and Perrie to just hang around distracting them, so they only wave on their way past them down to the bay, and Jesy starts counting down what seems like minutes until they get to join them. When they're finally free to do so, Harry opts out, joining Louis instead. He's got work to take care of still, but Harry only grabs one of the books he brought along, scoots up onto Louis' bed, and reads.

It's about two hours later that Louis joins him on the bed, plucks the book from his hands, and puts it face down on the nightstand.

“We've got another thirty minutes until dinner. Cuddle me,” Louis says.

Harry grins and obliges happily, wrapping his arms around Louis and pressing a warm kiss to the crown of his head, when Louis tucks his head against Harry's chest. Louis actually falls asleep, and when Harry makes to go back to his own room after dinner with the other three, Louis grabs Harry's hand and shakes his head.

“Stay with me?” he asks.

Probably whether he sleeps next to Louis or not has no influence on whether or not he'll have another one of those dreadful dreams. But at least, if he does, there'll be someone there to wake up to.

“Yeah.”

+++

Friday passes with more rose bushes, and Saturday passes with more reading. Louis clearly works more than they do, and his hours aren't as regulated as theirs are. Sometimes he'll get up just to have breakfast with Harry and Jesy and then go right back to bed for another hour or two before he gets started on anything, because he has to wait for someone else to get started on their work first anyway, and knows it won't be for another two hours that he can actually do anything. Though it's a lot more flexible, Harry's sort of glad for his own regulated eight-to-four deal, but then again, he's only doing this as a summer job, not an internship for something he wants to spend the rest of his life doing.

On Saturday afternoon they have another picnic-slash-bonfire, though this one goes longer into the evening. Niall's brought his guitar again, and he and Harry are currently trying to write a silly song about their summer so far, making Perrie and Jesy sing the lines out for them. It's only when Harry looks up once during a particular lull of creativity that he notices Louis isn't sitting where he used to.

“Where'd Louis go?” he asks.

“He left about twenty minutes ago. Said he wasn't feeling it but to have fun,” Perrie says, looking a little concerned.

“Oh,” Harry says, feeling instantly bad for not even having noticed that Louis left, nevermind that he wasn't feeling well. He spent all day with him, after all.

He looks at Niall and the guitar, and then up to the path back to the house.

“I'm gonna go look for him, see if he's alright,” he says.

“Text us when you find him, will you?” Niall asks, patting Harry on the back.

“Yeah. Don't finish that song without me. Or do, but record it, yeah?” Harry says, grinning at them all.

He quickly grabs his things and gives them a last round of goodbyes before making his way back up to the house. His things are dropped quickly in his own room, and Louis, to his slight surprise, is easily found in his own room.

“You didn't want to stay?” Louis asks, a slight frown on his face, when Harry comes in.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks back.

“Yeah, of course, just haven't been sleeping well,” Louis says.

“Oh. Did you want me to leave?”

“No, you can stay. Just not really in the mood for anything, like, getting off-wise,” Louis says.

Harry smiles and gets onto the bed with Louis, lying down beside him.

“Obviously I only care about that and will have nothing to do with you when you're not touching my dick,” he says.

“Obviously,” Louis repeats. “That's why you're not in my bed right now, but finding someone else to keep yours warm.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, lifting an arm in an invitation for Louis to snuggle under.

“Can we… the other way round? Instead?” Louis asks.

“Sure, yeah,” Harry says, and turns around so he can scoot backwards against Louis' chest, letting him spoon up to him.

They lie in silence for a while, and Harry finds his eyelids drooping and his mind wander off, until Louis whispers behind him.

“I want to tell you a secret,” he says.

“Okay,” Harry says back.

“It's a bit weird and embarrassing though, so--”

“I won't laugh,” Harry interrupts.

“Also, please don't think I'm making it up. I promise I'm not,” Louis says.

That piques Harry's curiosity more than anything, but he promises and then waits for Louis to start.

“Remember how I said last time I was in Cornwall I met a girl and such?” he says.

Harry does remember.

“Well, I didn't, actually,” Louis says. “I mean, I did meet a girl, sort of, but it was literally in my dreams. I kept dreaming about this girl, some sort of princess, and I know it wasn't real or anything but I swear every interaction I dreamed felt like I was genuinely talking to her and getting to know her.”

Harry stares wide-eyed across Louis room, only half seeing the desk he usually works at on the other side of it. Louis… what?

“It stopped as soon as I left, so I thought it was one of those weird things where you keep dreaming the same thing for a week or something, but I started dreaming of her again once I got back here,” Louis goes on. “The other day when I had that nightmare about dying, I dreamed I was dying because she wouldn't come to save me.”

Harry knows this is where he should say something, at least some comforting platitude, but he's stuck on the thought that it sounds like Louis is dreaming the other half of the story he's dreaming himself and he really, really doesn't know what to do with that. Louis waits for him to say something, but when he doesn't, he prods him in the thigh with a knee.

“Well?” he says.

“I think… I think I'm dreaming that I am that girl,” Harry says.

Louis tenses and then let's go of Harry.

“Don't make fun of me,” he says.

“I'm not!” Harry says, pushing himself up to sit and be able to look down at Louis.

“She has long red hair and freckles. She wears blue flowers in her hair that never die because she has a bit of magic. She's really good at medicine. She's in love with a knight, but married to someone else,” he says, watching Louis' eyes go wide.

“How do you know any of that?” Louis asks, voice a little uncertain.

“I told you. I dream I'm her,” Harry says, wringing his hands together.

“You're really telling me we're dreaming two sides of the same story?” Louis asks, disbelief clear.

“I have no idea. I just thought I had really weird, realistic dreams. Apart from the whole magic bit,” Harry says.

“And the girl bits,” Louis teases.

Harry rolls his eyes but grins. At this point he has just accepted that his dream self is a girl, but that doesn't mean it's not still weird. Especially when the sex dreams happen. The princess really likes sitting on her knight's cock, and Harry really never thought he'd have an imagination strong enough to come up with a sensation for him to dream of that's so distinctly different from anal sex, even when that's Harry's only point of reference.

“Honestly the girl bits don't bother me so much as almost anything else at this point,” Harry says.

“Yeah, dying wasn't fun,” Louis says, shooting Harry a curious look.

“I'm glad I never dreamed that, but finding you dead wasn't fun either,” Harry says.

“So you were coming to save me?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, you'd been dead probably less than an hour when I got there,” Harry says.

“Well, that sucks,” Louis says.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I-- she has magic, so she sort of, like, feels the death in the room? I've never felt anything like that but it was awful.”

“That sounds terrible,” Louis says.

Harry nods and takes Louis' hand when he offers it, the silent connection the only one for the next few minutes as they stare off into space.

“Back when I was a teenager and I first had these dreams, I googled them,” Louis says then.

“What did the internet say?” Harry asks, already grinning a little.

“Anything from brain tumor to reincarnation,” Louis says, with his own grin.

“Useless,” Harry says. “The distinction seems sort of important!”

Louis laughs and then, after a brief silence, asks, “Do you believe in that sort of thing?”

“Brain tumors?” Harry asks back. “No, sorry, I know what you meant. I don't know. I always did, in a vague sort of way, but this… seems a bit freaky.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “I'd never really paid it much mind, but it's so weird that I'm just having these dreams again.”

“That is beyond weird,” Harry agrees.

Louis nods and sighs.

“So, we're a reincarnated pair of star-crossed lovers, then,” he says.

“Better than a pair of people with brain tumors and folie à deux,” Harry says.

“Folie ah what?” Louis asks.

“Folie à deux. It's when two people share a delusion.”

“Right. Yeah, reincarnation is probably the better option then,” Louis says, making Harry laugh a little at the disturbed look on his face.

“I just want the dreams to stop, to be honest,” Harry says.

“Me too,” Louis says, and after another short silence adds, “You know, that's really not how I expected you to react to this.”

Harry laughs. “I'll bet.”

“Still, I'm glad you at least don't think I'm making it all up. Unless we do have that delusion thing.”

“Let's just assume it's magic instead,” Harry says, lying back down.

“Are you staying again?” Louis asks.

“Would you mind if I didn't?” Harry asks back.

“No, that's fine. Just asking,” Louis says.

“Okay. Cause I kinda want my own bed tonight, I think,” Harry says. “But not quite yet?”

Louis smiles. “Yeah, sure.”

+++

_“This isn't how you should spend your wedding night,” Harry's lover says, but he's not exactly stopping Harry from sitting on his dick._

_“The king is asleep,” Harry says. “I did my duty, now let me have my fun.”_

_The knight grabs hold of him more firmly at the reminder that someone else has touched Harry like this, and recently too, and let's Harry rock their bodies together._

_“You feel so good inside me.”_

+++

Harry wakes with a boner and wonders if Louis and his dreams always line up exactly. Grabbing his phone to check the time, Harry makes a split second decision and snaps a quick picture of his hand wrapped around his cock and sends it off to Louis.

 _Dreamed about the princess riding the knight_ , he sends along.

 _Haha, I dreamed absolutely nothing,_ Louis sends back. Harry barely has time to feel a little jealous when another text arrives.

_Nice dick though. ;)_

Harry laughs.

 _Want to come over? ;)_ he sends back.

Five minutes later, there's a knock on the door, followed by Louis peering into his room.

“Didn't think you would, honestly,” Harry says.

“Leaving you like that would just be rude, wouldn't it,” Louis replies, and locks the door behind himself.

“Incredibly so,” Harry agrees, and watches Louis make his way across the room and settle over Harry's body on the bed.

“Gonna blow you,” Louis says quitely. “Then breakfast, yeah?”

Harry bites back the pun, and nods.

“Sounds like a great plan,” he says, watching Louis lean down and take his prick into his mouth.

With the memories of the dream fresh in his mind, and the image of Louis clear before his eyes, Harry knows he won't last long. It feels far too good, and Louis knows far too much about what he's doing, swallowing Harry down like it's a tasty treat. He tries not to grab hold of Louis' hair, hates when people do that to him, and instead grabs at the sheets and his own body, looking for some sort of vent for the mounting pleasure that builds up between his legs.

“Gonna-” he gasps far too soon, shooting over Louis' tongue when he doesn't pull away.

Louis suckles him through it gently, and then pops off in the kind of move that leaves Harry wondering why there's not an actual popping sound that goes with it.

“Breakfast now?” Louis asks, licking his lips.

Harry laughs and asks for five minutes to get dressed and ready.

They spend the rainy day reading and playing cards with the other three, each of them retiring to their own beds in the evening.

Over the course of the next week, though they do spend mealtimes together and read together, Harry's not quite sure how to behave around Louis anymore. He knows they were just joking around about that reincarnated lovers thing, but at this point he's almost ready to believe anything and as absurd as it sounds, it also sounds like the only vaugely plausible thing. The more Harry learns from his dreams, the more the whole thing starts to sound like that legend of Tristan and Isolde as well, which would at least fit the setting, wouldn't it?

Harry has no idea how to handle this, if he's being very honest.

(At the very least, he doesn't think folie à deux works when it's only one of you, or that it takes a few years off. So that's probably not it.)

+++

_The four women stood in front of Harry smile at him with a sharp sort of pity. It makes Harry feel loved and chastised at the same time, and he hesitates to take the little glass bottle they hold out to him._

_“We would not wish you ill, princess,” one of them says._

_“We've done only what we could to make it easier for you,” another one adds._

_“Should you choose to do so,” the third says._

_“One drop,” the fourth one says, “will be enough. The stronger the love you desire, the smaller the dose needs to be.”_

_It's in the patience and precision the dosage takes, Harry knows. He hasn't learned much about magic himself, but there are some things you just… know._

_“The spell can't be broken,” the first one reminds him. “So whatever it is you choose to do, be sure.”_

_Harry takes the bottle._

+++

Staring at the ceiling, Harry tries to avoid putting together what this dream has revealed to him, but the awareness of it sits right there in his mind. Bright and center, no matter how much he doesn't want to look at it. The princess took a love potion and gave it to her lover, pretending it was wine. Even more than the death, Harry wishes he could un-dream this. Un-know it. If there's even just a shred of possibility to the thought that Harry is, in some way, this girl, he can't--

Harry throws back the covers and grabs his clothes, pulling on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, glad that at least it's the weekend and he doesn't have anywhere to be.

Three minutes later he's knocking at Louis' door.

“You're up too early,” Louis mumbles blearily from where he's still cocooned in blankets himself, but he scoots back and lets Harry sit on the bed.

“She gave him a love potion,” Harry says instead of any sort of greeting.

Louis sighs and runs a hand down his face.

“They both took it,” he says.

“But he didn't know!” Harry protests. It doesn't matter that they both took it, if she did so knowingly and he didn't. How could Harry ever be okay with having that kind of a person inside of him?

Louis grabs his hand and squeezes.

“He knew,” he says. “They planned it that way. So that they'd have an excuse if their affair was ever going to be discovered.”

“That's a shit plan,” Harry frowns but sags in relief.

“It is,” Louis agrees.

Harry lets it hang in the air for a bit before looking down at Louis.

“I don't want to be that person. At all,” he says. “I can take the dreams and the weirdness and everything, but I don't want to be someone else first.”

“You're not,” Louis says. “You're just you. You never even knew of… anything until a month ago. And it's not like it has informed any of your decisions.”

Harry very deliberately stares down at their linked hands.

“Hasn't it?” he challenges.

Louis does him the courtesy of not appearing offended, but he does frown.

“I don't like you for her,” he says. “I like you for you. I like you.”

Harry sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

“I like you too,” he says. “Sorry, I just freaked out.”

“That's okay. It's no less freaky from here, I promise,” Louis says, and squeezes his hand.

“Hey. Kiss me,” he says then, tilting his chin up for Harry to do just that.

Harry smiles, and does. It's easier to forget about anything else when he's kissing Louis, the soft warmth of his lips distracting enough that Harry thinks he could probably forget about absolutely anything linked to him like this. Louis shuffles to the side a bit and kicks off the blankets, inviting Harry to lie down with him, and grabbing hold of his t-shirt as if wanting to prevent him from getting back up again when he does. Their kisses don't get heated so much as they get deeper, mouths open wider, and wetter, though just as languid. Harry can feel his prick plump up in his joggers, and presses closer to Louis, feeling out his erection behind his boxer briefs.

“Fuck me,” Louis says, pulling at Harry's arm as he's rolling onto his own back, making Harry hover above him.

Harry grins, and kisses him again. He knows the offer's made partially because Louis's as aware as Harry is that the princess lacked the equipment to ever do anything of the kind to her lover, but there's also the tousled mess of Louis' hair, the shine to his eyes, and the heat flushing his cheeks red that tell Harry he just _wants_ it. Wants Harry close and inside, wants them to make each other feel even better than the kissing already does.

They undress easily, and Harry opens Louis up more quickly than last time, eyes trained on the expressions on his face and the way Louis clutches at the sheets. The slide in is a little harder than last time, but it doesn't seem like Louis's in too much pain when Harry pushes through it. On the contrary, Louis pushes his hips into it and tilts his head back, gasping at the ceiling, and grabbing at Harry's shoulders as Harry begins to move inside him.

Harry keeps looking down at him, at his sandy brown hair, and the slightest hint of stubble growing along his jaw line. At the blue of his eyes that twinkles up at him whenever Louis can keep his eyes open for long enough, and the bitten pink lips. Rutting into him is so easy, and feels so good, and when Harry manages to angle his hips right, and he makes Louis gasp into a thrust, it feels like everything Harry can think about.

“Fuck, yes, right there,” Louis breathes, spreading his legs wide and trying to tilt his hips into Harry's thrusts to make him do it again.

Harry holds Louis' hips still with one hand to make it easier, so they won't mess up what each other are doing, and does it again, and again, watching Louis moan and bite at his lip to keep quiet. Heat simmers low in his own belly, sending waves of it out into his fingertips and the tips of his toes. He can feel the orgasm bubble just underneath his skin, dance along his veins as he fucks into Louis. He reaches down to grab Louis' cock, jerking it in time with his thrusts, wanting to get him there as well.

“Oh! Close. I'm--- close,” Louis says.

When he opens his eyes again, he smiles that warm smile of his up at Harry, the one that he's come to know so well over their time together. His brown eyes are full of it. Harry doesn't know anything he'd rather look at that this expression on this face. _Drystan_ , he thinks on a sigh. His own hair spills past his shoulder, and his lover reaches out for it, to brush it back behind him, but then Harry snaps back, staring down into Louis' wide, blue eyes, his hand raised as though reaching out for the hair Harry doesn't have.

Harry makes a noise that's not entirely pleasure as his orgasm washes over him and pulls him under for a moment, before leaving his mind crystal clear. Louis must have come as well, his release wet on Harry's hand, but all Harry can think about is the brown eyes and the full beard he was completely convinced of seeing. The hair on his shoulder he was convinced of _feeling._

“Harry...” Louis tries to say, but there's nothing he can follow it up with, and when Harry pulls away and pulls his clothes back on, he does nothing to stop him.

It's raining again, so Harry gets away with hiding out in his room for most of the day, pretending he's not there.

+++

The actual construction crew arrived the previous week, and the third time Jesy sees Louis chatting to the one lad their age they have with a smile that's just a tad too wide, she actually puts a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry would be lying if he said that it didn't bother him to see Louis flirting with someone else, but they never outright said they'd be exclusive, and they never outright said they'd do this whole summer romance thing for the entire duration of Harry's stay. Sure, both things were heavily implied, but that was before the dreams, and the magic bits, and seeing someone else's face while they're having sex. Harry won't blame Louis for keeping his distance, and it's not like he's doing anything about it either. He still can't tell if this jealousy is his or Iseult's, and as long as he doesn't even know if he's actually into Louis or if he's just acting out someone else's cosmic second chance, he has even less than just the tenuous claim of their summer fling on Louis' attention.

“Did something happen?” Jesy asks later at lunch, which Louis has chosen to take earlier with the construction crew outside, laughing at something the bloke – Liam, Harry thinks – said.

Harry tries his best to shrug it off, even through Perrie's wide kicked-puppy eyes.

“We never said we'd be doing this the whole time,” he says.

“You were literally glued together two days ago and now suddenly you're barely polite, though,” Jesy points out.

Harry sighs. He doesn't really have a good answer for that, so he just shrugs instead.

“Just… things. Nothing too serious. It's just a summer romance. We don't hate each other or anything. He's still a good mate,” Harry says.

Jesy and Perrie don't really look like they believe him, but they do him the courtesy of acting like they do.

“If you say so,” Jesy says.

Harry does say so, and so they drop the topic, going back to the woman who had caused a scene over breakfast this morning because Perrie tried to tell her that you couldn't brew tea with cold water, and then complained about the lack of taste when Perrie brought her a cup of cool water with a tea bag in.

At least Harry leaves for the afternoon part of carrying sacks of soil around, and digging holes for bushes to be planted with a smile on his face.

On Thursday Niall finally asks him for a ride to a nearby golf course, and Harry has the best time walking around a golf course in clothes he feels a bit like a twat for wearing, chatting amiably to Niall than he has all week. Jesy and Perrie mean well, but the way they avoid talking about Louis is too obvious to be truly relaxing, and Harry constantly feels like he has to reassure them that he really is fine. It really was just a summer romance. Et cetera.

Niall, on the other hand, just talks about golf, and his family back home in Ireland, his brother, and his little nephew, how he's looking forward to going back home at the end of the month, and how Harry should come visit some time.

Harry's only job is to listen and have a good time, two things he happens to be very good at.

On Saturday Harry pretends like Louis' absence from their almost traditional bay-side picnic isn't for glaringly obvious reasons – or at least glaringly obviously connected to him, somehow – and instead comes up with another song on Niall's guitar. It serves as a great distraction, at least, and after a handful of silly throwaway lines, it becomes genuinely fun.

Let Louis flirt with construction crew if he wants to. Why should Harry care.

The last week passes quicker than Harry expected it to, somehow. In between packing and making sure he's got everything, collecting his final paycheck and making sure everything's in order, he doesn't really have much time for other things. He's already planning a spring trip to Ireland to see Niall, and Perrie and Jesy will both be in London. They still have their whatsapp group, and Gemma's been texting him inreasingly often about Mum's renewed kitten adoption plans.

Somehow, Cornwall feels like it's over.

And then, on Saturday morning, it is. He's already hugged Niall and Perrie goodbye, but Perrie comes running out of the house to throw herself into Jesy's arms anyway. Jesy whispers something to her that Harry doesn't catch, and with a quick wave at Harry, Perrie runs back inside. Harry shoots Jesy a questioning look, and gets a smile and a shrug in return.

Louis, slightly awkwardly, is the one to drive them back to the bus stop, though Harry probably should have seen that coming. Harry ponders feigning sleep for the drive, but Louis strikes up a polite conversation with the two of them about their summer as soon as they pull out of the car park, easing the tension that noticeably hangs in the air. Harry smiles to himself with the thought that they can still talk to each other vaguely like friends at least, and given enough distance from Cornwall and their strange dreams, he thinks they can be that at least. It'd be nice, to get to see Louis as well every now and then, when Harry goes to London.

At the bus stop, Louis hugs them both goodbye as well, and Jesy even deigns to hug Louis bag, after she's been all but ignoring him for the previous two weeks. When Louis pulls away from Harry, Harry could swear he sees his eyes flicker down to Harry's lips for a second, but instead of leaning in for the kiss Harry finds himself really wanting, Louis squeezes his arm.

“Take care,” he says.

“You too,” Harry says back, and then grabs his bags and turns around to board the bus.

Jesy slides into the seat next to him, leaning against him with a sigh as she stares out the window.

“Didn't think I'd be sad to leave Cornwall, to be honest,” she says.

Harry chuckles.

“No, me neither,” he says.

He half expects Jesy to ask after why exactly Harry would be sad to leave, but instead she's quiet for a minute or two and then says, “Perrie and I are going to be seeing each other more in London.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, turning to look at her.

There's a very slight flush on the tops of her cheeks.

“Yeah. She says she's not sure yet if she likes girls, but we've snogged a few times, and she wants to see where it goes,” Jesy says carefully.

Harry wants to be happy for her, and feels his heart sink at the same time, but with the way Jesy's carefully looking up at him, he knows it's not his worry she needs.

“You'll be great together,” he says. “Either way. You're good friends already, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” she says with a smile. “You should join us some time.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Didn't know you were into that.”

“Ew, no, not like that, you pervert,” she complains, smacking him on the arm.

Harry laughs.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Tell me how all that happened, instead,” he says.

Jesy takes a deep breath and sighs, but indulges him, spending the rest of their bus ride together gushing about Perrie, like she's clearly been dying to do. They say goodbye at the train station, Harry going back north for a bit before coming down to London, and Jesy makes him promise to let her know the moment he's moved in. Jesy's hug goodbye is just as deceptively strong as everything about her, and Harry's glad he'll only have to miss her for a few weeks. Of all the tiny girls to meet on a summer job, he's glad he met this one.

Jesy whatsapps them all a picture of her sofa when she makes it home, and Harry sends back one of the train he's still on. Once he's on the one bound for Manchester though, he sleeps the rest of the ride away.

He doesn't dream a single thing.

+++

“Harry!” Perrie calls, one arm raised and waving at Harry from across the street, the other one firmly holding on to Jesy's. Months later, it still warms Harry's heart every time he sees the two of them like that.

Harry laughs and waves back, then pulls up the sleeve of his coat to check the time.

“Hang on!” he calls back, and quickly looks right and left before jogging across the street.

“Hi,” he says, pressing his cheeks to theirs in kisses hello. Perrie's, as always, are icy cold. It's only November, but she's already wearing mittens and a faux fur hat. He's never met anyone who gets cold as easily as Perrie does.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Jesy says. “Got a date?”

“Just meeting a few friends for an afternoon,” Harry says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the pub on the other side of the street.

“Oh,” Jesy says, clearly about to take Perrie to the Christmas market set up further down the street.

“And you two?” he asks anyway.

“We're going to have some mulled wine and waffles,” Perrie grins, cheeks rosy. She looks like a snow fairy with her grin that wide, and Harry honestly can't begrudge Jesy the completely besotted look on her face.

“That sounds great,” he says.

“Listen, when are you leaving for Christmas? Cause we want to have a little pre-Christmas party and we'd like you to come,” Perrie says.

“Thank you. Um, I should be around until a couple days before. Probably the weekend, since that's when classes let out,” he says.

Perrie nods like it's what she's expecting.

“That's what Jade said as well. We'll probably do it that Saturday? Give people the Sunday to get themselves together to go home,” she says.

Perrie doesn't live with Jesy yet, as far as Harry knows, though she's over at her flat more often than not, what with it being a lot nicer and affording a lot more privacy than the room in the house share Perrie rents. The way she's so obviously planning a party they're going to throw at Jesy's place though, makes him glance over at Jesy for a moment. Jesy smiles back and shrugs her shoulders in a clear dismissal. Harry makes a note not to let her get away with it that easily.

“Alright, well, let me know,” Harry says.

“Yeah, will do. Have fun!” Perrie says, leaning in for another round of kisses.

“Yeah, be good,” Jesy says with a wink, leaning in as well.

“I'm not the one living in sin with her girlfriend,” Harry whispers to her.

“Sucks to be you, then,” Jesy whispers back, which is as good as confirmation that if they're not living together yet, they're probably going to be soon.

Harry's grinning widely when he pulls back.

“See you soon,” he says, and then turns to cross over to the other side of the road again.

He decides to wait inside, and goes to find them a booth. Mikey's bringing a few friends, and though George bailed on Harry last minute, they're still going to be at least four or five people, so they need the space. Harry orders a pint for himself, and fiddles with his phone while he waits, googling pictures of things under a microscope to send to Gemma and annoy her with.

“Harry!” Mikey calls from halfway across the pub a good fifteen minutes later. He's trailed by a few people, and Harry gets up with a grin to receive the customary clap on the back in greeting.

“These are Olly and Emre, we're a band now,” Mikey beams, and Harry's eyes slide away from Mikey to a bloke with glasses, and another one with a lot less mass to his body and a lot more mass to his hair.

“And that one's Emre's friend, Louis. He was hanging around and bored,” Mikey goes on, and Harry's eyes snap to the end of the line, eyes settling on – Louis.

Unmistakably.

Louis looks a little wary, like he'd half-suspected Mikey's friend Harry might be _Harry_ , but really, _what are the odds?_

“Hi, Louis,” Harry says with a small smile. They haven't spoken since Louis dropped Jesy and him off at the bus stop, but that doesn't mean Harry's never thought of him. The dreams stopped completely, and the longer Harry goes without them, the clearer it is that what Louis and he had was completely separate from that, and he probably freaked out for nothing and ruined those last two weeks for himself because he's an idiot.

“Hi, Harry,” Louis says.

“Oh, is this…?” the one with the glasses suddenly says, which probably makes him Emre.

Louis smiles a chagrined smile and shrugs. So Emre knows at least some of the story then.

“I'm confused,” the other one, Olly, says.

“Harry and I met earlier this year in Cornwall when I was doing my internship,” Louis explains, and then goes to slide into the booth when he realises they're holding people up a bit with how they're crowded in front of it, instead of sitting down. There's the general shuffling of everyone sitting down and taking off their coats before the conversation's picked up again.

“You didn't stay in touch?” Olly asks then, eyes bright.

“No, we didn't,” Louis says, making Emre laugh, and Olly turn to him.

“They had a thing over the summer,” Emre explains.

“Oh!” Olly says. “Sorry. Did it end badly? Should I not have brought it up?”

“No, it's fine,” Harry says. “It didn't end badly. It just… ended.”

“Oh, good. So this isn't awkward then, right?” Mikey asks now, frowning a little like he should have somehow prevented this.

“No, not at all,” Harry says, and looks over at Louis to see him nod.

And surprisingly, it actually isn't. Of all the ways Harry thought he'd see Louis again, meeting him through a friend of a friend he made at an open mic night only a few weeks ago, isn't what he'd envisioned. He was half convinced Jesy and Perrie were going to try to set something up, or that Niall would get bored of not asking, and ask what had happened between them, but this is actually so much better.

They tell stories about their summer, and Louis tells stories about how the project's moving on and will be done in spring, probably, which makes Emre and him exchange a look and then laugh.

“Emre's an architect as well. That's how they know each other,” Olly leans into Harry to explain. “They have their own jokes, apparently.”

Harry laughs.

“We'll just have to make some as well, then,” he says.

Olly grins and clinks their glasses together.

“Deal,” he says.

They do, eventually, come up with their own joke, though it's mostly how they're trying to come up with their own joke. It still confuses Emre and Louis though, so it's funny enough, especially after the two or three pints they've all had, loosening them all up a bit more. By the end of the night, Harry's pretty sure he's gained two new friends and, because Emre absolutely refuses to share any of their music before it's done, a large dose of curiousity for the kind of music they make.

Huddled outside the pub, Mikey says goodbye to go see his girlfriend. With Emre taking Olly home – in a direction neither Louis nor Harry need to go – that leaves Harry and Louis standing there, realising they need to take the same line on the tube, at least for a few stops. It was easy, in the group, reminiscing together, and joking around, but now, alone, Harry feels the last few months of radio silence creep back in on them.

“Shall we then?” Louis finally says.

“Yeah. It's not exactly standing around outside weather, is it,” Harry says, and falls into step with Louis.

“So, how have you been? How are you liking uni?” Louis asks.

“Good. It's good. Fun. I'm learning a lot,” Harry says.

“That's good,” Louis says. “That's what universities are supposed to do, I hear.”

“You hear? Like you're not going for your master's soon,” Harry teases.

“Yeah, but have I learned anything?” Louis teases back.

“Thought that's what the exams were meant to test,” Harry says.

Louis waves him off. “Nah, those are just about how well you hold up under stress.”

That doesn't actually seem unlikely, Harry thinks, and grins.

They lapse into silence then, and Harry takes a few sidelong glances at Louis before he musters up enough courage to say, “I'm sorry I never called, or texted, or anything.”

“Why?” Louis asks. “Not-- I mean. I never called either.”

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, but I wanted to. I feel bad about how I handled things in the summer. Or… didn't handle things is probably more accurate.”

“Summer was a weird time,” Louis says.

Harry snorts a laugh. “Yeah, it was. Still.”

“You didn't handle it any worse than I did, so I'm not angry or anything. But I forgive you, if you want to hear it. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too,” Louis says.

“Thanks,” Harry says. “Friends?”

Louis looks at him calculatingly and then smiles.

“If that's what you want, yeah. Friends,” he says.

“Is that not what you want?” Harry asks, heartbeat picking up with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“Well, you're still just as awfully pretty, and I do like you,” Louis says, only the slightest flicker of his eyes to the side belying the throwaway tone of his voice.

Harry feels his cheeks go red.

“You want…?”

“I want to see where this can go, if you want that too,” Louis says. He stops just outside the tube station and pulls Harry to the side a bit.

“Summer was weird, like we said. I want to know what we can be when things are less weird,” he says.

Harry feels his heart thump heavily, and his face split into a grin.

“I'd like that,” he says.

“Yeah?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says, and grabs Louis' hand. “A lot.”

“Great,” Louis says, and pulls Harry down towards the trains. They both swipe their cards and then reach for each others' hands again.

“By the way, Jesy and Perrie are having a pre-Christmas party in a few weeks, and you're going,” he says.

Louis groans. “Jesy hates me,” he whines.

“Nah, she doesn't hate you. She's just protective and she saw me first,” Harry grins.

Louis laughs.

“Perrie already invited me, actually,” he says.

“Really?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. I think they were counting on both of us coming,” Louis says.

Harry grins to himself.

“We should not tell them,” he says.

Louis laughs again. “Like you could hold off telling them for that long.”

“I really couldn't,” Harry sighs. He's already itching to grab for his phone and text them.

When they board their train, Louis slots under Harry's arm, standing a bit closer than necessary under the pretense of there not being that much room. Neither of them say anything about it, but Harry settles a hand on Louis' waist, and Louis leans into Harry's side. When Louis' stop comes up, he leans up and kisses Harry on the mouth.

“Now you've got something to tell them,” he says, and then turns around and slips out of the door.

Harry doesn't have time to say anything back, so he just fishes out his phone and sends Perrie and Jesy a message in the whatsapp group the three of them have set up. He's got a feeling they'll be inviting Louis to join it soon.

 _Bumped into Louis. We're giving it another go. He kissed me on the tube!!_ he sends.

Perrie sends back a string of exclamation points and emojis.

Jesy sends back a single thumbs up.

Harry takes a screen shot and sends it along to Louis, as proof that Jesy really doesn't hate him.

 _Wow, you really didn't last a single minute,_ Louis says.

 _Jesy approves!_ Harry says, because that's clearly the important thing there.

Louis sends a wink, and a kiss. Harry sends back a kiss of his own, and almost misses his stop.

It would have been worth it.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I shoe-horned Years & Years in there, and, no, I did not make sure this fits with their timeline as a band, so just pretend. ;)
> 
> Caerhays Castle is a real place, and actually is close to the Tristan Stone (that's a real thing too), but the manor house I described is entirely made up for the purposes of this story.


End file.
